Ragweeds
by AngelAtTwilight
Summary: Bella & Edward are two broken kids in foster care who meet under tragic circumstances. When the world wants them apart, fate seals them together. Can they fight to stay together? And at what cost? ** Angst, Cursing, Physical Abuse. OOC**
1. Preface: Torn

_**REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!! Every word counts, so make yours!**_

"What is a weed, anyway? A plant nobody planted? A seed escaped from a traveler's coat, something that didn't belong?  
Was it something that grew better than what should have been there? Wasn't it just a word, _weed_, trailing in judgments. _Usless, without value_...  
_...Unwanted_."  
~ Janet Fitch

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**Ragweeds.  
Preface : Torn**

**Scarred by personal tragedy, Bella & Edward are two broken kids in foster care who meet under tragic circumstances. When the world wants them apart, fate seals them together. Can they fight to stay together? And at what cost? This is the story of two children, ages 16-18. Through struggles there is triumph, but with every triumph, there is sacrifice. (That is why the finished product is called a reward.)  
***Rated M for: Lots of Angst, Drama, Sex (Lemons), Cursing, Drugs, Physical Abuse, and more. NO RAPE, NO SLASH. All Human. OOC.*  
**(As always, links for Twilighted thread and chapter goodies in profile!!)**

*** POSSIBLE TISSUE WARNING ***

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_Special Shout-Out's:_  
To my faithful **Readers**.... thank you for giving me a new opportunity to present a different kind of story. I hope it intrigues you, inspires you, and that you will give it a real chance. Please provide all the feedback you can, keep me motivated to finish this beautiful story I see in my mind. Because I honestly feel it needs to be told.  
To **my lovey Caryn (Jazz Girl), **my Beta -- thank you for giving me your time, hard work, and dedication. You're a wonderful beta but you're an amazing friend. We're at it again!! _GASP!_ ILYSDM.  
To **Aura (Rebecca's Mom)** for helping me out with the tid-bit's, for encouraging me, and for getting the Twilighted thread going for me! I owe you BB! You know how much ILY!  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. But I'll gladly take Rob if you'll let me have him. (And I busted my ass to write this, so do not take what is not yours and post somewhere else.)

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_**"You've got wires... going in. You've got wires... coming out of your skin.  
There's dry blood on your wrist... you'll draw blood on my fingertips.  
Running... down corridors through automatic doors...  
Got to get to you. Got to see this through.  
First night of your life, curled up on your own.  
Looking at you now, you would never know...  
I see it in your eyes. I see it in your eyes...  
You'll be... all right."**_

_**~Athlete, "Wires"**_

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**Preface : Torn **

**BellaPOV **

My chest burned hot searing flames, like I had swallowed down a bitter poison. It ate me alive, excruciatingly slow.

I wasn't sure how I could still move. The water was freezing. My stomach ached. My legs were heavy, solid lead, trying to gild me into the ground, to keep me locked down.

But I couldn't stop.

Something was moving me. Something beyond my control. Forcing me to fight.

I kept pushing, moving, running. All the while, I begged God to let me reach him in time.

"Edward!" I screamed desperately. My voice was scratchy, like an old broken record. Harsh and raspy. I was so exhausted. If I had the chance, I'd curl into fetal position and sleep for a week... I couldn't even remember the last time I had the opportunity to do that. I had to continually remind myself not to give up.

I saw him running toward me, over the hill and down the pavement, toward the same ocean surf where I was. The police officers shouted in the distance, calling after him. They begged him to come back. Shimmers of light marked his coppered hair as they struggled to find him in the darkness. With each flash, I caught a glimpse of the torn boy desperately struggling to make his way to me. I noticed the smears of blood beneath his busted lip, the black circles beneath his tired green eyes. The brown bruise on his cheek that I had caused without knowing.

Each mark, every bruise, all the pain... it hurt my heart just as much as it must have hurt his body. That emotional pain reinforced the physical. I felt it all. All he felt, all he was. His struggle, his sacrifice. His pain was my pain. We were in this together. No matter what, our connection would remain solid.

I screamed his name louder, refusing to allow myself the defeated sign of tears. I had to push, to continue onward. I had to make it to him. I couldn't break down now. He depended on me.

"Bella, stop!" Miss Evenson was behind me, and her shouting reminded me she wasn't too far away. "Stop!"

I sensed her on my heels.

_I'm not going to make it_, I thought. _They're going to take me back before I get to him._

_No! _The other side of me countered. _ You have to make it, you can't do this without him. You've made it this far, Bella, just keep pushing. Almost there, you see? Almost there!_

The distance between us shortened and lengthened simultaneously. My chest panted, my heartbeat grew heavier. Everything felt nearly frozen. The icy water crashed around my ankles, trying to weigh me down. But I couldn't let it drown me. I wouldn't let _anything _consume me. Not again.

"Edward!" I whimpered, almost falling over the crash of the surf, head first into the frigid blue beneath me.

His angelic voice shouted my name, just as strained and desperate. I heard him panting and growling. Listened as his shoes hit and screeched across the ground until he reached the sand. He was that much closer to me. We were almost together again. His voice was what pushed me to keep going. The sand flew around his ankles as the beams from the flashlights on top of the hill hit him. "Bella, don't stop! Don't listen to them!"

I barely heard them calling behind us. Both parties were on opposite sides, wanting the same thing. To keep us apart. They demanded we stop where we were. All I tried to focus on was him.

He was what led me.

I screamed out his name.

He shouted mine back.

"Edward!" I cried again, falling to my bruised knees as I tried to push myself out of the surf. The ocean roared loudly at me. I crawled, panted, continued, ignored the sting from the sand flying up in my eyes as I struggled to pick myself back up. I tripped several times, each time my drenched clothes collecting more sand, more dirt, more weight. I wouldn't stop.

The gap between us was closing fast, and I could taste him and feel him before he was even there. The memories of him flooded back to me, and for a second, I felt relief.

"Bella!" he shouted, his voice shaky and cracked. "Bella, Bella!"

"_Edward!_"

As soon as we were close enough, I jumped at him, throwing my arms and legs around him, the sand flying up and around us like a bomb had exploded.

I knew I was crying, possibly even screaming. I felt pulverized. Angry for what the world was putting us through, but blessed to feel just the slightest bit relieved that we were holding each other again. I heard all the pain and the struggle rip through my burning throat, threatening to never end. I couldn't stop the tears from pouring from my eyes. Nor could I stop my hands from gripping him tight, as if I was holding on for my very life.

...I was.

"Shhh, don't cry," he said, though he was sobbing too. "It's okay."

"Don't leave me! Don't let them take you!" I begged.

"Bella, we'll never stop being together, I promise you. We'll find a way."

"EDWARD CULLEN!" The police officer shouted, and over his shoulder, I saw them coming down the hill.

"BELLA!" Miss Evenson called behind me, and I heard the K-9's barking. "I see her, we got her! Paul, keep going, box them in!"

This was it. The end.

I screamed desperately, locking myself tighter to him. "What are we going to do?!" The terror in my voice made it all the more raw.

"We'll find a way," he reassured me again, struggling to keep his cool, convincing me he didn't have any other answer. "Hold on tight to me."

"I am," I whimpered, the salt from my eyes falling down my cheek and covering his heated neck.

"Don't let me go, Bella. No matter what they try to do to us."

"I won't let go of you," I vowed breathlessly. "I won't."

I felt his arms tighten around me, his fingers lock against the back of my shirt. I heard him whimpering, begging, praying, "Don't tear her from me again, God, _please_. Don't take her from me. I'll do anything, anything please."

"Edward," I cried as I saw the men getting closer to his back. "Please stay with me."

I knew it wasn't possible. I knew what they were about to do. But I couldn't help but beg, hoping that maybe someone in Heaven above would hear my cry and, for once, one time in my life, let me have what I so desperately needed. I prayed that there was a Heaven above, somewhere. That all of this was for a reason.

"Please stay with me."

"I'm not leaving you, Bella. Ever!" He pulled his face back, and his eyes were as broken as I knew mine were. But that despair and pain quickly turned to sheer rage. "Look at your face, God... What did he _do _to you?!" His scream was ferocious.

I shook my head, swallowing down the fact that it wasn't important. I wanted to tell him but I felt something hard hit us from the side, knocking us both down into the sand. We held onto each other despite the police and all of the adults grabbing us, trying to rip us apart. They pushed me to my stomach but my fingers grasped hold of Edward's red and black flannel shirt, latching on tight.

Edward growled and grunted, punching a male officer in the nose in order to move him off of him. Then he turned swiftly to his side and caught my wrists. "Bella!"

"Edward!"

They hollered, shouted, and moved in closer. They pinned us deeper in the sand. There was nowhere we could go.

"Bella! Fuck, get _off _of me!" he shouted, trying to crawl toward me, to get the other man off of him. He couldn't fight. They were all too strong for us.

I cried as pebbles and rock filled my mouth, hair, and eyes. I prayed that my fingers would be strong enough to hold my entire weight.

I felt Miss Evensons' hands around my waist, and then they began to tug on me as she screamed, "LET GO OF HIM! Bella! This is for your own good, I promise-"

"LET GO OF _ME_!" I cried, desperate, clawing at his shirt, trying to get a better grip, feeling the strain on my fingernails.

"BELLA!"

"_EDWARD_! No!"

A loud growl roared from his chest. His teeth bared, his face was angry, pleading, and exhausted. I felt his fingers loosen. The yanking on his pants and around my waist made it harder for us to hold on. They were threatening to taze him.

"Don't fucking let go," he shouted desperately to me, his eyes burrowing into my soul. "_Please_!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!"

"Bella, shit." His fingers were losing. "Shit. Shit! _Shit!_"

"Get his hands!" the officer behind him shouted, noticing where we were interlocked. "Taze him if you have to."

"NO!" I begged as more people grabbed hold of my body, pulling me away. "No! No, _no_, please! NO!"

I heard the ripping before I actually saw the tear.

And then we were apart, a piece of his shirt crumpled in my bloody fingers. I curled my hand around it, clinging to the last piece of him I had.

"Bella!" His voice echoed in my ears, drowning out every other noise.

I stilled.

As soon as we lost contact, I knew it was over.

All I heard was his shouting and my heavy, hollowed, burning breaths. Everything moved in slow motion, the weight of the world finally settling in on us. It covered us up and closed the lid.

I watched helplessly as they yanked him by the back of his shirt, up from his stomach and over, onto his butt. They pulled him away from me kicking and screaming. The tears fell from his bottom lashes, down his angry face, onto his cut lips.

I watched as he called for me, knowing there was nothing I could do, that either of us could do. "I'll find you again!" he promised, the last of his words ringing in my ears. "One day soon, baby, you're going to open your eyes, and I'm going to be there! We'll be together. Don't give up on m-"

"Shut up!" Someone said, silencing him with a blow to his gut with their flashlight, forcing him to buckle over. "Useless punk."

I winced and cried, absorbing his words for everything they were worth, as the police officers screamed and shouted commands. My fingers clenched around the tattered remains of his shirt, as if I could comfort him by holding it tighter. They lifted him up to his feet and drug him away from me, back up the hill, toward their waiting cars. Others stepped in front of me and blocked my view all together. They tried to talk to me. I stretched desperately to see around them but it was useless.

I couldn't see him anymore. And without Edward, I wasn't myself.

Their voices were simply a low buzz in my ears now.

Closing my eyes, I pulled in slow, ragged, faint breaths. The echoes of the police sirens, the voices, the surroundings all slowly dissolved. The only physical thing I could feel was the remnant of the fabric still clutched in my hand. It was precious to me now, more precious than my own life. As I exhaled, I screamed his name one last time, struggling and pleading with the world.

..It was useless. Done.

The demons had won. They defeated us and tore us apart, then left us shattered and broken. Again.

I fell over on my knees and wrapped my arms around myself, curling up into a ball, despite the fact that they were telling me to get up, that I was going back. Pushing my face into the sand, I whimpered. My face stung as my tears washed the raw, sand-scraped skin of my cheeks with salt. But no outward pain existed. It was nothing compared to what I was feeling on the inside.

...They may have taken this battle. But the war was far from over.

No matter the distance or the obstacles they tried to put between us, we'd never be lost. We'd never lose sight of each other.

And we would never, _never _give up.

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_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

-- _Exhales slowly_. I'm really nervous... Don't worry though, it's not all heartbreaking, I promise.  
So let me know your thoughts. It only takes a few minutes, if that! Tell me if you're excited, if your intrigued... All encouragement and constructive criticism welcome.  
There's plenty more to come, so stick around!! And don't forget the little green button down there, click it once, spare a few moments, & REVIEW!!! Feedback means a lot.

COME CHAT WITH ME ON THE TWILIGHTED THREAD! LINK IS IN PROFILE.

**Reviews are better than the thought of our couple doing whatever it takes to beat the odds. :D**


	2. Ch 1: A Life Before

_"Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty."  
_~ Mother Teresa.

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**Ragweeds.  
Chapter One : A Life Before  
For those of you who asked, the preface is a climax in **_**Ragweeds**_**. This is the start of it all. Shows the drastic difference between their lives.**

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THIS STORY IS **RATED M** & CLASSIFIED **ANGST **FOR A REASON. IT IS AN ADULT STORY WITH ADULT SITUATIONS.  
MINORS &/OR PEOPLE WITH THE FAINT OF HEART, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY & THEN GET MAD ABOUT WHAT HAS BEEN WRITTEN. **YOU'VE BEEN WARNED**.

_Special Shout-Out's__: _

-- To my faithful **Readers/Reviewers**.... I am overwhelmed by your response. You are beautifully encouraging. You make me want to do more and more and more. Thank you!  
-- To **my lovey, my beta, Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... You _amaze _me honey. You're sick and exhausted, yet you still make time to listen to my plots, help out with lines, and anything else I ask. You are never taken for granted. (& Thanks for giving me some funny remarks, bbgirl! You know I love your wordage just as much as you love my brain.)  
--To **Aura (Rebecca's Mom)** for taking the time to help me find locations for these characters. I love you. Happy Birthday, again.  
-- To _**"Dandy"**_, who didn't sign in so I could have the opportunity to respond in private, and wrote this response, "_**Dandy 2009-10-24 . chapter 1 It seemed really really melodramatic. I half expected them to run into the ocean to commit suicide. You should let the work speak for itself instead of begging for reviews all the time**_."-- ...Well, hell. What fun would it be if they pulled a _Romeo & Juliet_? That would defeat the purpose of a PREFACE, would it not? _Chapter 1: Preface. They died. The end_. No, in all honesty, I understand where you are coming from, but I have to respectfully mention that this is _my _story, and if I want to ask for reviews, that is my right. I believe all writer's want to be rewarded for their work, and what a better way than with a review that least _recognizes _the effort? So... I wish you the best and hope that you will find another story/writer who is less melodramatic. Hopefully they'll have a routine of writing that better fits your needs. Take care.  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. But I busted my ass to write this. Do not take what is not yours.

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_**"I think I know what's on your mind. A couple words, a great divide.  
Waiting in the wings, a small respite...  
Crowding up the foreground from behind.  
Even though you're the only one I see, it's the last catastrophe.  
Place your bets on chance and apathy."  
~ Grizzly Bear, "Slow Life"**_

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**Chapter One : A Life Before **

**BellaPOV **

I smiled and looked up to the unaffected crystal blue sky, which spun in a slow circle before my eyes. The smell of spring air swirled around me in a clear fog, enlightening my senses, awakening me slowly. April was the best month out of the year, in my opinion, with the rain showers slowly drifting away and the flowers beginning to break through. The scent in the air was a silent reminder that something better was a step closer every time you walked outside.

Every day was a fresh start, a new beginning, a reminder that I, once again, could start over, live a different life for twenty-four hours, and be whoever I wanted. A poet, an analyst, a teacher, a writer, a scientist, even an award-winning actress like my mother. The possibilities were endless. Every minute, a new adventure could make itself known. That was the best part about being young.

I lived for this smell.

"Bella," my friend Janey giggled as she gripped the bar tighter, "you'd better hold onto something or you're going to fly off! I'm barely hanging on myself."

"Nah." I stretched my arms above my head and threw caution to the wind. "If I fly off, it's because I'm supposed to. Never affect _God's plans, _Janey." There was a hint of sarcasm in my voice, dying to escape. I wasn't sure if I believed in heaven and the possibility of a God. I didn't doubt it necessarily, but I wasn't religious. My mom taught me that there were too many laws in religion that contradicted themselves. So instead, we classified ourselves as _spiritual_. That way the non-believers could respect us enough to not call us freaks, and her fans wouldn't feel like she was shoving her beliefs down their throats. It was an equal balance.

"You're crazy!" she screamed, sitting on her butt as the thing twirled faster, out of control. "Eric! Slow _down_!"

"Hang on!" Eric screamed wildly, while his Nike sneakers dug into the dirt with every push of his toes. This was his way of practicing for his next track meet. Or, at least, that's what we'd say as an excuse if anyone caught us. We were all sixteen, which meant we were way too old to be sneaking off to the elementary playground after hours. Most of our peers were out playing chicken with the oncoming traffic and getting drunk at parties on Friday nights. But not us.

We were desperate to hold on to any part of our childhood we had left.

The merry-go-round spun entirely too fast at that point, _dragging _Eric instead of allowing him to push it. It made me squeal with laughter, watching his facial expressions change from horror to calm, then back to horror as he ran around the small circle, trying to keep up. "Eric! You're going to die. Why don't you just hop on and let it do it's own thing for a while?"

"Can't, Bella!" he panted, almost tripping over his own feet, "it's going too fast now! If I let go, it's going to chop off my head. That thing has sharp edges. Look at it!"

"It's your own stupidity," I sighed, shivering slightly when the fresh breeze slipped across my stomach, where my shirt wouldn't cover with my arms behind my head. "We tried to warn you before you even began."

"Shut up, Bella."

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, blocking everyone out. Even though I couldn't see anything, my body moved along the fast circle, reminding me that I was still spinning. Faster, faster, faster, faster... Over, over, over, over... Around, around, around, around... It gave me a high, knowing I could easily be injured. Maybe this was how stunt men felt about danger. Maybe this was why they thrived on it.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Janey moaned shortly, breaking into my daydream. I heard her crawling toward me, beneath the long bars. I winced slightly, praying she didn't release her stomach's contents on me. She wobbled and gasped, sliding around like a marble in one of those pinball machines.

Extending a free hand, I shielded my eyes from the hot sun with the other and smiled over at her freckled face and grey eyes. "You okay, Janey-boo?"

She shook her head and gulped loudly, shutting her eyes tight.

"Eric, better stop us," I warned, squeezing my friend's hand in reassurance. "Janey's gonna throw up again."

"_Janey_!" Eric hissed, his voice a wheeze of exhaustion at that point. He held his breath and jumped, forcing his heels to dig into the dirt and slow us down. The merry-go-round whined in resistance but Eric won the fight soon enough, grinding us to a sudden stop. Janey crawled recklessly off of the metal sheets, over by the swing set, and threw up the remnants of the orange sherbert she had eaten an hour ago.

I sighed as Eric dropped down beside me, noticing his chest heaving. "She always does this," he hissed. "I don't know why she even gets on anymore. She can't handle it."

"She wants to run with the big cats," Tyler joked, dropping to an Indian-style position beside us. I had forgotten he was there with us. He was always quiet. Tyler tilted his head, watching Janey fall back onto her heels as she wiped her mouth with her arm. "You okay, Janes?" he called over to her.

"Oh, just fine," she exhaled, shuddering. "I hate puking."

"At least it was orange sherbert and not something chunky... like chili."

"Eww," I groaned, slugging him on his left thigh as Janey lurched over again, obviously not liking his clarification anymore than the rest of us. "That's disgusting, Tyler."

"Hey, it's true. I've thrown up chili before. Not a fun activity, especially when it comes out of your nose."

"Blech," I groaned, climbing off the merry-go-round. I stumbled around dizzily and grasped the high end of the teeter-totter, taking deep breaths.

"Bella, wait!" Eric called, running over to me. He grinned, sat on the side that was in the dirt, and gripped the bars. Eric balanced the worn-in wooden board in the middle and waited for me to climb on, which I eventually did once I caught my breath. "God, we haven't been on this thing in weeks!"

I beamed, moved closer to the handle bar, and adjusted my body to sit more comfortably. Wooden boards were never comfortable to straddle, that's for certain. I didn't understand how guys could do it at all. How did their balls not get squished? Did they do the 'tuck' thing I frighteningly heard Eric and Tyler discuss once after P.E. last semester? How does someone_ tuck in _their balls, though? Were they just left hanging -- literally?

"Just don't do that one thing you used to do," I glared at him, gripping tighter. "You know, the thing where you bump-"

"Like this?" he asked with a jerk of his body, which flung me momentarily in the air.

I landed with a hard clunk on the wood and sneered bitterly at him. "_Quit_!"

Eric threw his head back in laughter at my expense, "Oh Bella. You're so easy."

"She _is _her mother's daughter," Tyler teased, lightly slugging my arm, payback for earlier, I'm sure. He was rewarded with an eyeful of hatred. Stupid jerk.

"Stop being so serious all the time, Bella," Eric chuckled. His slick black hair blew in the slight breeze we created from bouncing up and down on this thing. "Relax. Lighten up."

"I am lightened," I smiled back at his cheesy grin. Eric was funny. I could never be mad at him for long. "My homework is complete, we're going car shopping this weekend, and Mom's making enchilada supremes."

"Mmm, am I invited?"

"Ugh, Bella," Janey moaned on the park bench as she rubbed her stomach, "_please_. Can we _not _talk about food anymore today?"

I bit my lip and focused, trying to knock Eric off the teeter-totter. Over and over, but it never worked. He was the skinniest male friend I had, which was why teeter-tottering was so easy with him. However, he had a grip on him that no one could surpass. I once told him he'd make a good quarterback. He simply laughed and told me football was for muscle-bound queers who felt they had something to prove. _Track showed real strength_.

Although my mother was wildly popular, my friends never treated me as anything less or more than their equal, which was perfect. I loved them for it.

After Eric and I stopped fooling around and trying to kill each other, we settled into a steady rhythm, taking turns being on the low and the high ends of the board. I loved the teeter-totter. I loved how one person went down, and the other person went up. Someone was always supported. I loved how it resembled the case of someone falling, and the other being there to catch you. Back then, I never realized it could also resemble being on opposite sides of the spectrum, the highs and lows of life.

I was the kind of girl who always tried to see both the good and the bad in the world. My mom told me that I should not set my standards too high, but never lower them beneath me either. I tried to go with the flow, but I prepare myself for anything that could come my way. _Always cautious, but always eager_. That was my motto.

...I was naive. Wet behind the ears. A baby.

I didn't know much of the world, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. And I never expected that this day on the playground, from the merry-go-round spinning out of control and welcoming danger, to the teeter-totter with the up and down, cause and effect, was simply a warm-up for everything to come in my life.

Everything I was once protected from.

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**EdwardPOV**

I held my breath and threw my arms up and over my shoulders, then slammed the axe down to slice the large chunk of wood in half. Wincing, I tossed the pieces into the pile, and rolled my shoulders back and forth. I'd thrown my back out two days before doing this, so managing it for much longer would be painfully difficult for me. Especially between this and the swim meet coming up. But if I didn't do it, there'd be no heat in the house. No heat meant I wouldn't be able to cook. And I couldn't go hungry again. I was nauseated enough as it was.

Everyone around town knew the situation in my house. The cops showing up here was a normal weekly activity, the way movie-night would be for some of the more fortunate families. At sixteen, I felt more like the parent, and my parents were the children. The only time my father lifted his arms was to pour more beer into his throat or hit my mother when I wasn't around, and the only time he lowered them was when he had to take a piss. And my mother... well... let's just say that I didn't want to think about the damage she'd do if she caught the chance to hold an axe these days.

To say that I've grown up in a broken home would be the understatement of the century. For as long as I could remember, my father had been on "disability". In other words, he'd been sucessful at scamming the government with fraudulent accusations and claims about the breakdown of his nervous system, which somehow allowed him to do nothing besides beat my mother and I down, drink large quantities of alcohol, and pass out on rare occasion.

For the majority of my life, my mother would let him do and say whatever he wanted to us. But about a year ago, she began to stick up for herself, whenever I couldn't be there to take the hits. That pissed my father off. He became wary, making sure not to get _too drunk_. That way, she would never have an advantage over him. So he would aim for _comfortably drunk_, which meant drunk enough to make himself go numb for a few hours, but sober enough to be down our throats again if need be. He blamed us for all his problems. It was an endless circle.

I didn't have friends. The only person I talked to was my swim coach, Mr. Harvey. Other than that, while I was at school I remained polite to all my classmates but I mostly stuck to myself. I'm sure my peers had an idea pf what my life might have been like whenever they saw my ripped jeans and torn shirts being worn on rotation. But I didn't want them to look down on me for my misfortunes. I had to deal with that enough with all the people living near my home. My GPA was decent, but the only reason I stayed in school was because of the pool. In there, I could be myself. All I had to do was jump in the water, and then I could soar to a different place, to the opposite end of the spectrum. I could vanish for a few minutes, turn around, and then vanish somewhere else.

Mr. Harvey was acutely aware that my folks had no idea of my swim meets. He was kind to me, understood my situation for what it was and for what I wouldn't say. He had no trouble staying after practice to give me extra one-on-one time when I seemed distracted, and as a pay off, I'd clean the pool for him every Saturday morning before my parents awoke. I didn't want any favors from anyone. What I received, I gained because I earned.

Caught up in my own world as I chopped, I hadn't realized my name had been called. "Edward," my mother growled in a huff as she stormed over to me in her fuzzy worn boots and dingy, off-white robe, "your father says you're making too much racket out here. Can you _please _tone it down?"

I threw the axe down onto another chunk of wood and my mother gasped, covering her chest. I'd startled her. I looked up at her apologetically and gave her an understanding nod. "Sorry. It won't be much longer, we only need a few more blocks to last us the night."

"Why can't you just microwave something, and use what wood we have for heat? Do the rest tomorrow?"

"There's nothing really to microwave. And there's only a chunk of wood left in there. It won't last but two hours, on a low flame."

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked nervously at the front door, then back at me as she lowered her voice. "I'd appreciate if you could find an alternative, Edward. He's... calmer today. Why should we stir him up?"

Discreetly rolling my eyes, I pulled the gloves from my hands, and shook my head in annoyance. "He's not calm, Mom," I sighed, carrying a handful of wood over to be bundled. "He stole your Vicodin. I watched him take them an hour ago."

"What?"

"Yep." _It's almost like he bashes you over the head just so he can steal the pain medication after the prescription gets filled_, I thought to myself.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "either way. Just... get inside and eat a bologna sandwich tonight, will ya?"

I stared down to the yellow, faded grass in front of my torn brown boot and nodded slowly. "Sure thing."

"Thank you," she said, reaching out for me. My mother never hugged me anymore. She never touched me, never pat me on the back, never told me she loved me. I looked up at her in shock and she pulled her hand back like she touched an electric fence. Then she turned and stormed away without a second glance. I was surprised she could remember how to say _thank you_ these days.

After I loaded the fire wood into the black oven and closed the hatch, I dusted off my stained jeans and made my way into the kitchen, ignoring my father sitting lazily in the recliner with a beer at hand and a fresh one between his legs. He muttered something incoherently about how much of a loser I was, which was typical. My mother stood on the opposite side of the kitchen with her arms crossed, next to where the washer and dryer sat for all to see.

I washed my hands before I touched the refrigerator handle, an unfortunate lesson I learned a couple years back. Although I was the only one who made an effort to clean and keep things straightened, I couldn't get it dirty myself. That came with serious consequences. The only items in there were an open case of beer with three remaining, a knocked over bottle of mustard, an open package of colby cheese, and a molding head of lettuce in the broken crisper drawer. I closed it and swung open the cabinet above the fridge. "There's no bologna in there."

"I'll try and get you some money tomorrow so you can go grocery shopping after school," she whispered almost inaudibly. She didn't take her eyes off of my father, who glared numbly at the muted television. He always kept it muted. He wanted to be aware of everything around him. He claimed he could read lips.

"We're broke," my father scoffed, sloshing his Miller High Life and proving my point that he was paying attention to us, not the television. "I don't get my next check until Friday. You'll have to suffer."

I walked over to my mom and took a deep breath. I felt nervous. "Mom," I whispered, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I think you should reconsider allowing me to take that job at the supermarket. We can always use the extra cash around here. Maybe I could get a discount on groceries? It would help."

"You know you _can't_," she scoffed, finally turning her attention up to me. "Who would chop the firewood and do your chores if you were gone?"

"Maybe I can work nights only and get them done between school and work?"

"Now's just not the right time, Edward," she exhaled insistently. "Please _stop _asking me. ...Go grab your laundry and get it done quick, so your father can take a shower-"

"A hot one this time," my father scoffed, shaking his head. He wouldn't glance in our direction. "I'm sick of the water running out before I get in there."

I rounded my shoulders, glaring at the side of his head. "Yes sir," I sneered before walking down the crooked narrow hall toward my room. I wished that my father hadn't taken the door off the hinges the night after my mother tried to hide from him in there. I wanted nothing more than to close my door and have some privacy, if only for a few seconds. I couldn't remember the last time I felt secure in my room, let alone my house.

My laundry was done and chores were inspected. I settled on top of the single bed I'd had since I was six and pulled out my journal. It was the only bit of myself I had left and I held onto it with my last breath. I kept a secure padlock on it so I knew I could be myself when I wrote. I could express my real thoughts, my goals, my concerns, all without fear. I didn't have to sugar coat anything, didn't have to bite my tongue. I wrote about the good, the bad, and the ugly things I noticed throughout my day. The only positive that came from the lifestyle I was forced to lead was, when it got bad, you sought out for the good in life...

Whether it be the last brown leaf falling from a tree during the beginning of winter, making its ultimate sacrifice to allow time to pass fluidly, or simply the way the sky lit up with a rainbow of colors during every morning's beginning. The little things that most people overlooked were the ones I treasured the most. They were the simple things, the things that would always be there, things that would do whatever it took to keep the world moving.

In a nutshell, they were me and I was them.

I knew what it felt like to be taken advantage of, to be forgotten about, and I didn't want to do that with anyone, or anything.

I had raised myself better than that.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

"Mom!" I shouted, laughing as I skidded through the large entry way, my sneakers leaving black marks across the sand-colored marble tile. "Mom, mom!"

"In the kitchen, darling," her beautiful voice rang, over the peaceful melodies of Billie Holiday.

I caught a whiff of the enchiladas she was making and my stomach growled happily in response. I ran through the double doors and found her in a white dress, high heels, and a tiny apron, humming over a bowl of tomatoes she was slicing. "Mmmm, Mom, it smells so good in here!"

My mom looked up and laughed, walking over to me and wiping something off the side of my face. "Isabella, what do you have on your face? Is this... dirt?"

"I fell coming home."

She glanced down at my dirty clothes and grass-stained jeans that had a fresh tear at the knee. "Darling, I may as well wrap you in bubble wrap and call it a day."

"Or we can just call the hospital and tell them I want my suite redecorated?"

"Or that," she chimed with a wink, before waltzing back toward her food preparations. "Dinner will be ready in an half an hour. Why don't you run upstairs and shower? Take Jax with you."

"I gave Jax a bath last week."

"Honey, go smell that dog. He needs another one. You wanted him, he's your responsibility."

I couldn't help but smile. "Fine," I growled playfully, fake-stomping toward the doors, "but you better make my tacos with extra sour cream for this!"

"Don't I always?" she asked in her sing-song voice.

I ran through the large dormador, into the living suite, and scooped up our sixth month old, brown and white boxer puppy. We named him Jax after I begged my mom to rescue him, when I visited her on one of her film sets in Jacksonville, Florida. He definitely has an east coast vibe to him, which was why he loves the indoors a hell of a lot more than the outdoors here in Seattle. But he's a big, happy furball. "Come on, buddy," I groaned as I carried him up the steps, though he was capable of walking himself. I liked to baby him. Besides, he babied me when I was sick last week, so I owed him.

Jax and I took a fast shower because, for once, he actually cooperated with me. I let him out to splash water all over the bathroom walls while I finished up in private, and then I redressed and gave him a towel dry before we raced each other down the steps toward the grand foyer.

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down," my mom laughed, her delicate fingers wrapped around a crystal glass filled with red wine. Her favorite. "You made it just in time for the sizzle."

The sizzle was my favorite part. My mom and I always ate dinner outside on the patio in front of the fire place, seated on red cushioned imported wicker furniture. She lifted the lids and the individual burners sizzled the chicken and beef, decorating my ears. Nothing beat my mom's home-cooking.

Mom filled my crystal glass with fruit punch Kool-Aid and we made a toast before we ate. We discussed how our days went in detail, and I laughed as she tried to explain to me how her new assistant, Margie, messed up her costume choices for the upcoming red carpet event. And, she gasped in horror when I told her about the one time Eric successfully knocked me off the teeter-totter, and how Janey threw up again.

"And then, of course Eric had to make fun of her all day about it," I laughed, shaking my head. "He never goes easy on Janey."

"That's because he likes her."

I rolled my eyes. "Everyone likes Janey, Mom. Even when she throws up, the guys hang around her."

"And what are you telling me, dear Isabella? That no man fancies you?"

I rolled my eyes. "None that I care to acknowledge."

"That's my girl," she winked. "_Let no man put asunder_."

I loved when she said that quote. I didn't know where it came from. She'd never explained. But it made me smile when she said it. She always seemed so strong, so brave. So proud. Shoulders up, chin high. Walk in a straight line, but bounce on it when you want. She had a way of twisting things around to make me laugh. She made the dark seem invisible.

She didn't date much these days. Mom never needed a man. On the rare occasion that she was lonely, one would come by and they'd lock themselves in her room, but he never stayed the night. She said that a man staying the night gave him the power. She couldn't allow that to happen.

She never told me much about my own father. Whenever I would grow a wild hair and get curious, I'd ask her about him. All she would say was that his name was Charles, and that his only worth was a donation. Nothing more. But I was okay with that. Sure, I was curious about having a father, what one would be like. But I had a lot of parent in my mother, though her schedule kept her busy. She always made me feel special, no matter what. She'd tell me how I brightened her moonless sky, how I was her meteor.

She was my best friend.

After dinner was over, we set the plates on the table in front of us and lounged back in the chairs, gazing up at the stars in the midnight sky.

"This is the life," I sighed contently, patting the top of Jax's head.

My mother hummed and closed her eyes, the wine from the bottom of her wine glass warming her tummy well. "So they say."

My mom smiled as she climbed in bed beside me. "Come on Jax," she giggled drunkenly, patting the side of the bed. Jax hopped up and did a circle on my mattress before he plopped down over our feet. I smiled as my mom kissed my forehead, pulling her fingers through my long, chestnut hair.

"Mom?"

"Yes baby?" she whispered, the smell of lavender and freesia from her white dress wrapping me in comfort.

"I'm thinking about taking another art class this fall… Maybe an advanced one. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," she replied. "Why would you even have to ask? You know I love your work."

"I know, but your scheduled to be shooting _'In Rome' _in September, and I don't want to be held down here, and uanble to visit you-"

"Darling, darling," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You are an _artist_. It's what you do. Never, ever let anything get in the way of what makes you happy. A dream is only a dream if you don't have the guts to live it. And you, my young angel, have the guts. You can make it... I know your art is going to be displayed in the greatest of museums, sold for millions one day. A stupid film schedule should not get in the way of the first steps to living that dream."

I smiled and shook my head, nuzzling into her chest. "I want you to be there. Or to be there for you."

"I simply want you to be happy, baby."

"I am happy."

She sighed and pulled away, rolling onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before whispering, "you could be happier."

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, I'm sixteen. I'm stuck in a world of transition. Like it or not, I don't have to find every world's happiness right now. There's room for exploring."

"Who says you shouldn't have it all?"

"Who says I deserve it all?"

She sighed and stroked her fingers down my pale arm before frowning at me. "I do."

My heart clenched.

We stayed remained for the longest time.

I felt myself dozing off, and knew she'd be leaving to go in her room soon, so I gave her a hug, "I have it all. Everything I want. I don't need anything else but you and Jax."

"I just... I don't want you to be so naive, Isabella. The world is dark. I want you to appreciate it for what it is, and know which paths to walk down, no matter where life takes you. I want you to be brave."

"I can be brave."

She kissed me on the cheek and tucked me in. "Sure you can. You're your mother's daughter, after all."

I nodded, closing my eyes for the last time that night. "Always."

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment before I let it out slowly. I couldn't hear anything. It made me smile. I enjoyed the deep silence more than I ever enjoyed constant noise.

I wasn't one who craved attention or the spotlight. I didn't feed off of gossip and rumors. My only goal was to stay out of the way as much possible. I was what some people considered, a simple person. I had nothing. I tried not to require much, and I never asked for anything I couldn't find myself. Give me a soft melody, a swimming pool, and my journal, and I'd be set for life.

Some people might say that I'd hardened. But I feel that I'd simply found a way to protect myself. My silence became my armor. There wasn't much I trusted, but that didn't mean that I wouldn't fight for what I believed in, or what I stood for.

The hollow cement walls glimmered with both warm and icy tones, streaming across every surface. Crimson blue waves scattered and rippled below my feet and stretched across the room, a welcoming invitation. There was nothing more peaceful to me. No better transition than standing atop the high-dive and being on top of one world, knowing I was about to enter another. This was my sanctuary. My peace of mind. My home.

I jumped up and arched forward, soaring through the air..

The luke-warm water graced the tips of my fingers, moving quickly over my hands. It flowed up my shoulders, over my head, around my waist, and between my legs, to the very ends of my toes. As soon as I was surrounded by it, I made my way to the shallow end of the pool. I took my time getting there. I wanted to make it last. Over and over, around and around, my arms and legs fluttered. The breast stroke was my favorite motion, but I could do all of them well.

As soon as the wall came into view, I did a quick somersault beneath the surface and pushed off. My body twisted until I was on my stomach again and I swam back in the opposite direction. I hadn't come up for air yet.

The average person, according to Mr. Harvey, could hold their breath anywhere between forty-five seconds to two minutes, depending. Rescue swimmers can usually last around five minutes. The world record was set by David Blaine, at seventeen minutes and four-point-four seconds, on _The Oprah Winfrey Show_. But after five minutes, brain synapses begin shutting down, and the human body's risk for passing out, brain damage, and death increases tenfold. With as much practice as I'd allowed myself, I had figured out a way to slow my heart while under water, thus using less oxygen. After a year and a half in this pool, swimming multiple times a week, I could hold my breath _and _swim lengths for seven to eight minutes. I'd learned that it is easier to hold your breath in colder water because our bodies natural instinct is to conserve oxygen, much like dolphins or whales. However, cold water increases the risk for muscle spasms, and once they start, most tend to panic.

I had never tried to see how long I could hold my breath while I was steady and unmoving. I was afraid the temptation to stay under and never resurface would swallow me.

I swam forty-six laps before I allowed myself any break. By the time I met the deep end, my lungs felt on fire. I took a few deep breaths and pushed the goggles to the top of my head, wincing as I lifted my arm. I had really pushed my shoulders to the limit chopping wood. I started to panic, worrying about how well I'd do with the meet coming up. I didn't want to fail. I'd have no way out of this town if I couldn't find a sponsor. Not that I wanted to make the Olympics. My head wasn't that far in the clouds. But when I turned eighteen, there'd be no stopping me, no matter what circumstances I endured.

A loud splash behind my back startled me, and I spun with a gasp. There, floating upside down and open, the worn out leather binding swaying in the ripples of the pool, was my journal. My eyes scoured the room and steadied on a dark figure on the left side. I made an attempt to reach out and grab it.

"Don't you fucking move."

My arm froze over the water, extended, my hand hovering above the book. I stared at my father cautiously, wondering to myself how in the hell he found me, and more importantly, my journal. I kept it duck-taped to the bottom of my mattress, between that and the springs, that way if the bed was torn up, no one would see it. So how did he?

"Edward Anthony Cullen, I didn't know you had it in you." He never called me by my name, and it frightened me to hear him say it. I was always 'boy' to him.

"In me to what?" I panted, my lungs still burning from my swim. Now they tightened with the anxiety of the situation as well.

He scoffed, "I didn't think you had it in you to deceive me."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I reached for my book. My father twisted before I could blink, and a handful of goggles that were sitting in a box on a lonely bench behind him suddenly went flying at my head, a few smacking me in the face before they crashed hard into the water. "I told you not to fucking touch it!" His scream sliced through the eerie silence.

My hand shook as my palm lingered a centimeter above it. I noticed one of the pages hanging from the spine, the red ink bleeding into the blue water. Smearing. Erasing itself.

"Tell me," my father shouted, his voice ricocheting off the walls, "how... a dumbass loser like you... snuck out of _my _house... into this school... climbed in the pool, and waded around here like a little pussy mermaid? Hmm?"

I took a deep breath, hesitating. My left eye hurt and I noticed a few drops of blood fall into the water. The goggles had cut me.

"_Now_!" he hissed.

"I'm... on the swim team here at school," I confessed, not peeling my eyes from him. I didn't dare. He always demanded I _man up_ when he interrogated me. The consequences if I did not were severe. Last time I had ended up in the hospital with a black eye, my right arm broken, and three bruised ribs, while my father mocked me from the waiting room. He told all the nurses how stupid I was, made up a story about me trying to skateboard at night. I had never touched a skateboard in my life.

His voice went mocking again, "You're on the _swim team_. How did you manage that?"

"I tried out two years ago."

"Yes..." he swayed a little, "...I do believe I read that somewhere."

I swallowed. _How much of my journal did he read?_

"I also believe that I read somewhere... where... _you _believe karma is going to come back around and ... _do me in __the way__ I deserve_." He paused, tempting me to turn away. I didn't. "Is that true, boy? Do you feel that way about your own father?" I didn't answer him. He scoffed, stepping closer to the water, "Let me tell you what I think _you _don't deserve. You don't deserve to have my name. My first _or _my last. You... utterly _disgust _me. Look at you. You're worthless. You think you're worth that piece of shit journal? This piece of shit pool? Do you think anybody really gives a god damn if you submerge yourself in water and don't come back up?" He scoffed again. "Go ahead, boy. Do it. Do us _all _a favor."

My journal began to sink. I could tell when it started to succumb to the additional weight of the water. I stared at it out of the corner of my eye. It was all going to be destroyed. The thought sickened me.

"In fact... I think that if you did, you may even get a smile out of me."

I stared blankly at him. My fingers twitched.

"Possibly even a chuckle."

With a deep breath, my hand crashed into the water and grabbed the remains of the binding, and I pulled it to my chest.

Many things happened at once.

He must have known I was going to react because, clothed and all, he jumped into the pool. I stiffened, staring shell-shocked as he made his way to me. I thought about bailing, figuring I could swim faster than him if I tried. I figured I had the upper hand with him being intoxicated. But as soon as I saw the red in his eyes, the anger on his face, I knew there was no place for me to go. He'd catch up with me sooner or later anyway. He always did.

I gasped when his hand flew to my neck and I immediately tried to pull it away from me. He cursed loudly and growled his frustration. His left foot swung out behind my legs, interrupting my treading, and I slipped beneath the surface. His other hand held me firmly in place and, with my eyes open, I saw his face above the water. The view of his skin below the surface looked harsh with the mixture of red ink from my journal and blood from my cut eye. I kept telling myself not to panic, I knew I could really destroy my body if I did. But still, fear settled over me like a wet blanket. He was going to kill me.

I knew it had to have been minutes now. He was much stronger than me. His hand squeezed tighter and he pushed me down toward the bottom. I tried to pry his fingers off, but he wouldn't budge. My body flailed in the water, as his face and the bright lights from the high celings above swirled around me in a haze of blue and red. More minutes passed.

For the briefest of seconds, I thought about allowing him to do it. End it all. Put me out of my misery. Do what he's always wanted to do. It was bound to happen anyway. But then I thought of my mother. There was no way in hell she'd be able to defend herself if I was out of the picture. He'd kill her, too. It was only a matter of time.

I could hear him shout something, but I heard it as a snarl through the water. I kicked hard and my head managed to break the surface. "I should leave you here!" he shouted, choking me again. "You wanna write this shit about me. You want to tell yourself that _I'm _going to get what _I _deserve?! Let me give you what you deserve, you worthless bastard! You're _nothing_!"

Wincing at the pain engulfing my lungs and throat, I somehow managed to lift my right foot and kick him as hard as I could. He buckled forward in pain and yelled louder. Pushing from the surface with a loud gasp, I coughed up the water he made me choke on, and without thinking, punched him square in the nose. He released me.

My body turned and more panic set in. If he caught me, there was no second chance. I _would _be dead.

"You little bitch!"

I swam as fast as I could to the opposite side of pool, climbed up the ladder, and made my way to the locker room. Gasping, I rounded the corners, ripped a towel off the shelf, grabbed my jeans from the bench, and left everything else where it was. I ran through the echoing, empty halls of the school, shivering at the cold air, as my father screamed his threats from the locker room. He wasn't far behind me.

As soon as I cleared the front door, I made it to the side of the building and stopped to throw my jeans over my swim trunks. I kept my eyes locked on the corner, waiting for him to come out of the doors. He didn't.

Precious minutes passed. I needed to get out of there.

Mustering up the courage, I fought a battle with my lungs and ran up the large hill, down the sidewalk, three blocks away, and made a sharp turn to the right. The dead end street came before I knew it, and tripping only a few times, I clawed my way through the dirt, scraping my hands and bare feet on logs and debris from the woods. I had no idea where my father was. I didn't dare look behind me, for fear that he'd somehow caught up.

Struggling and wheezing, I made it to the gravel road and sprinted all the way to our blue house in the shadows. The street light above our mailbox was busted, and I had never been more thankful for that, even when a few pieces of shattered glass hit my feet. The sound of my father's truck roared behind me, and I knew it wouldn't be long before he caught me.

I crossed the front steps and barged into the house. My mother walked out of her bedroom in her red robe and, despite her questions, I grabbed hold of her and pushed her until we both reached my room. "Edward, what is going on?!"

"I hit him," I shouted, running around the bed to grab the only extra pair of tennis shoes I had. The soles were scraped off. "He found me in the pool, and he tried to drown me, and I hit him. He's going to be here any minute!"

"What do you mean-"

Her voice cut off when the front door was kicked in, and I reached over and covered her mouth with my hand. We both ducked down on the back side of the bed. "Shhh," I whispered, trembling. Her eyes mirrored the fear in my own.

"WHERE ARE YOU!" my father shouted angrily, punching walls as he stalked down the hall. The house was tiny. He knew I'd come back for my mom. He knew I was there.

My mom's fingers wrapped around my arm and she whimpered in fear as his feet came into view. There was a tiny wooden window behind me, leading into the dilapidated garage. I knew we'd never make it out in time. Besides, my father kept a padlock on the doors for that very reason.

We've tried everything at least once.

He inhaled slowly and a creak broke the silence. He'd made it into my room. My mother moved closer and we ducked as low as we could, watching the shadow linger then slowly move across the wall. He was moving. Coming around. He was going to see us.

Tensing, I turned our bodies so that my mother was behind me. I saw my father's flannel shirt before I saw his face.

"Well, well," he chuckled as I stood up, pulling my mother up behind me. She trembled, whimpering, her face pushing into my back. "There you are."

Shivering, I kept my hands behind me, held my mom, and whispered, "I-I'm sorry."

My father tilted his head, "You're _sorry_? The boy is sorry..."

He stepped closer, backing us up into my nightstand. "Tell me, sorry for what? For deceiving me?" He moved closer. "For... saying all those things about me?" Stepped again. "Or... is it that you're sorry for punching me, your father, in the face?"

"Edward," my mother cried, desperate.

"I'm sorry, please. Don't hurt her. She has nothing to do with this."

He sneered. "_You _brought her into this. Should've left her in the room, where she was."

I tensed.

"But you went and fucked it all up, didn't you?"

I took a short breath and held it again.

"_Didn't you?!_" he shouted, his face a mere inch from mine.

Trembling, I whispered, "Yes."

The briefest of seconds passed, and I watched him rock back and raise his fist.

I heard the sound of a bitter crunch and a loud pop, but nothing else.

All I saw was a room painted black.

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts & predictions. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than finding out what goes wrong in the next chapter. :D**


	3. Ch 2: The Storm That Came

**----**"_All men kill the thing they hate, too, unless, of course, it kills them first_."  
~James Thurber

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Two : The Storm That Came  
**What happened in Edward's life before Bella came along that made it all change.

* * *

**PLEASE READ FIRST. Three commonly asked reader questions**** :**  
**1. How soon will you update this story?** I plan to _try _& post a new chapter once a week, every Monday. If schedule goes haywire, I will try and give you some form of notice before, on Twilighted or here at the end of a chapter update.  
**2. Is this story going to be as long as **_**The Ex Factor**_**?** No. There are only 2 planned character POV's, not 6-8 character POV's, placed multiple times, per chapter. I will have more than 1 E/B POV as chapters progresses and characters become more developed, but I don't see it being as long... Although I tend to be into the little details, so you never know. It still may be good size. ;)  
**3. Is the biological parents Edward Sr, Elizabeth, Esme, Carlisle, Renee, Charlie...?** Though the father's are the same in this story as most (Edward Sr & Charlie), the biological mother's in this story **have been changed**. I want Renee/Esme to have a different, more permanent role, and I've used "Elizabeth" as a character so much, that I really wanted to switch things up and make it fresh. It'll all make sense as you read it.

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters**.... You are AMAZING and you give me strength. Thank you for your input.  
-- To **my lovey, my beta, Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... thank you for holding my hand and encouraging me to carry the light as we walk down the dark tunnel. With you by my side, I'm not so afraid.  
-- To one of my favorite published author's, **Janet Fitch**, for your first novel has inspired me to write this story. Your writing is more than simple poetry to my ears. It taught me something.  
-- Special thank you to **Kayla (OpenHome)** for your kindness and your foster care information, and to **Aura (Rebecca's Mom) **for being my "private investigator", finding the visual details.  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**"You don't wanna hurt me... but see how deep the bullet lies?  
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder... There is thunder in our hearts, baby.  
So much hate for the ones we loved. Tell me, we both matter, don't we?  
You... you and me... you and me won't be unhappy.  
And if I only could make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places,  
be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building..."  
~ Placebo, "Running Up That Hill"  
**_(The theme song for this story.)

* * *

**Chapter Two : The Storm That Came**

**EdwardPOV **

"Edward... talk to me."

I didn't want to respond.

"Edward..."

Looking away, I shook my head in disgust. I felt ashamed and angry.

"Edward," she whispered again, "talk to me. _Please_."

"I was careless," I murmured. "I should have waited longer to leave. I should have fought back, I could have stopped him. I locked up."

My mother frowned and fiddled with a dirty fork on our kitchen table, careful not to touch me. "We just have to be very cooperative with him, do whatever he wants, and maybe... he'll let this go. Get better."

I glared at her, at the split lip, the cut on her cheek, the bruise over her eye, the fingertip marks on her arms. I'd heard this speech so many times before. "Why do we have to live like this?" She frowned and began to answer, but I cut her off, "No, I'm serious. He's going to kill us one of these days."

"Edw-"

"Mom, he tried to drown me in the pool!"

"_You _shouldn't have been there in the first place!" she snipped. I scoffed and pushed back from the table, walking away. She sighed in defeat. "Edward, you need to try and underst-"

"No, _you _need to understand," I cut her off. "You may have decided to give up your life, to allow him to run you into the dirt. But I'm not going to do it anymore."

"You don't have a choice! What are you going to do? Leave?"

"Yes."

I walked down the narrow hallway toward my room, which was completely wrecked thanks to my father's outburst. There was blood on the carpet from where he busted my nose. I couldn't recall how long I was out. All I remembered was waking up to my mother screaming in the hallway. He held her down on the floor, his hand wrapped around her hair and throat. He struck her multiple times. I crawled over and tried to stop him, and faintly remember seeing a boot come toward me. Then I was out again.

But I couldn't think about that. I had ten minutes to gather some clothes and get out of there before he got back. Or else.

"You can't leave," my mother whimpered. "You have nowhere to go. You're just a boy."

"You can go with me."

"We don't have any mon-"

"I'd rather sleep in the most disgusting, disease infested gutter than live in this house for another second."

"Please, just... We can fix it," she begged. "We can fix it, and then maybe he'll calm dow-"

"He won't."

"Yes, he does sometimes if we give him a-"

"Yeah, until we piss him off again!" I shouted. "He's _never _going to stop. He has us wrapped around his finger, trembling and living in fear. I'm not going to-"

"What about _me_?" she cried, holding her hands to her chest. "What about me if you leave?"

Sighing, I stilled and sat my bag on my bed, upset that she had played that card. She always did it during moments like these. Moments when I tried to be brave and get out.

She took a step forward, her face pale as a ghost, "You can't leave me here. I would _never _leave you."

I glared at her, pissed off at the world. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you did."

She gave a nod and sniffled silently. Her eyes were drained of every emotion, of everything. "...That's because you're stronger than me." Her voice was so small.

I scoffed and stared down at my bag, my jeans hanging from the opening. "Then find some strength, mother. Because I can't do this much longer."

* * *

Three weeks came and went. I couldn't leave No matter how bad I wanted to run for the hills and never look back, I'd never abandon my mother, and I knew she'd never leave him. She was too scared, too afraid that he'd catch us again. Just like he did before.

I was four at the time. I remember my mother telling me we were going for groceries, back when he'd allow her to drive the car. She threw a few bags in the back, loaded me up, and drove off. We made it all the way to Nevada, and then something happened. I don't know if she lost her nerve, got scared, or felt she was in over her head. We stayed at a motel and she made the terrible decision to call him. I remember her screaming on the phone, refusing to tell him where we were, swearing that he'd never touch us again. She hung up after a few choice words, ordered us a pizza, and held me while we watched Nick at Night until I fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of banging on the door. My father was screaming at her from the other side of the door. He'd traced the call somehow and caught the first flight out. My mother checked us in to the hotel under our actual last name, so it was easy for him to trace. She wouldn't let him in. She hid me in the bathroom, beneath the rusty, leaking sink. My father punched out the glass window beside the door, turned the lock, and the next thing I knew, we were in the car, driving back. My mother moaned in the back seat the whole time. I remember being terrified and crying, seeing all the cuts and blood and bruises on her face and hands. My father didn't hit me back then. He always tried to tell me that it was her fault, not mine.

When I turned eight it all changed. Up to that point, he'd call me names and punish me with chores that pushed me to my physical limit. But nothing serious. I don't know why, or where, or what I did to piss him off. But something changed and I have vague memories of being thrown across the room. From that moment, the abuse escalated. Every time I had the courage to take the hits for my mother, he'd punish me until I blacked out. Then he'd beat her, too.

With each incident, I tried to be tougher, stronger. I tried to focus my mind, take more hits, protect her longer. I prayed she'd run and hide, get out of the house and never look back. She never did. She was too scared of him. And anytime I stood up to him, the next punishment was more severe. It was a sick game he played with us. If I didn't fight back, I was a pussy, and he'd swing harder. But if I did... well, let's just say most days I was thankful to be able to wake up, and others... I wished I hadn't.

I watched my mother get angry. There had been times before when she'd get mad. But, after a few kicks to the face from my father's boot, she'd cower do what he wanted. But I noticed something different about her this time, saw it in her eyes whenever she had the strength to glance at me. There was mystery there. A glowing ember. She was planning something. I knew it. A few times I asked her about it, if she was okay. Her only response was, "the breeze blows in strange directions." I had no idea what she meant. She kept those secrets to herself.

But me? I had no secrets. My father took everything that I loved away. My journal was ruined. I'd left it in the pool after the attack, and the legible parts were smeared all around the school thanks to my teammate, Salvador Johnson. He found it when he dove in for practice the next morning. I didn't return to school until the following week, allowing time for the bruises to fade. When I entered the halls, I quickly found out that everyone knew how much I hated my father, and how shitty my life was. No one cared enough to cradle me or reach out in any way. But their laughter and stares intensified. I did my best to keep my chin up and go to class, but I felt their eyes on me, heard their whispers. Eventually, I began to bail, hide in the bathrooms, fake that I was sick. Some teachers would take pity on me and allow me to leave, but no one called the cops. I wasn't surprised. Forks was a small town.

I never returned to the pool. I left Mr. Harvey a letter, thanked him for the time he'd given me and the lessons he taught, and apologized about not being able to clean it. I didn't see him any more, but I did notice that there were still snacks in my locker; Pringles, Doritos, Gatorade. We had a silent understanding way back when I first joined the team. He never asked about my situation but he always looked out for me. He usually left them in my pool locker by the atrium. But, because he knew I'd never be back to swim again, he put them in my school locker.

Sometimes I'd leave sticky notes, thank you's with smiley faces. It was all I had. The notes were gone when I returned from my class, replaced with a fresh turkey sandwich in a baggie or a candy bar. He never responded to me in writing though. I considered him an angel. He didn't show his face now, but did things that let me know he was there, and that he cared. I would always be grateful to him, although I felt ashamed and guilt-ridden because of my situation. I only hoped that one day I could repay him.

My chores doubled and my father remained a lunatic. Some days, he'd sit in his recliner, drinking and shouting commands at us. I didn't want to do what he asked, but my mother would glower at me when I didn't respond, and I'd eventually cave. Other days, he'd wake up mad and go to bed angrier, with busted knuckles and marks left on either our bodies or the walls.

It was a sick world we lived in, with trap doors and no exit signs.

I felt hope fading fast. But my mother... she still had that glimmering, orange light in her eyes.

Some days, she frightened me more with her silence than my father did with his hands.

* * *

Another week passed. My mother's attitude persisted. She began to smile whenever he wasn't around, and she'd narrow her eyes at him when he was. She fought back harder. It didn't matter, knowing he'd win eventually. She'd still swung back.

She didn't speak much, unless she felt like talking to herself. I gave up trying to ask her what was going on, what she was thinking. I always got the same answer, the same discussion, about a breeze, or the way the dirt blew up from the ground, or how the clouds rotated in the sky. I had no idea where her head was, but I started to fear more for her mind than her body.

It was all strange. I hated it when she wouldn't fight back, wouldn't stand up for herself. But, lately, I wished that she would stop trying. She walked around in a constant haze, as if she'd taken drugs, or was born with the habit. It seemed as if my father's shouts went right over her head. Her bruises were darker, the gashes deeper. When I went to hand her an ice-pack one day and she spoke in this eerie, dark, disconnected voice.

"Bruises are makeup in some countries. Maybe I should wear them with pride, knowing I survived."

I sighed and told her to wake up.

She said she didn't want to.

Instead of lashing out at my father and getting knocked out again, I did my chores with anger. I scrubbed the dishes relentlessly, like an artist erasing lines, removing bad memories. Swept up the resentment, mopped up the blood and tears. Each time the axe hacked into a new chunk of wood, I imagined it be his fingers. Each one, a new piece of wood, until he couldn't hit me anymore. Then I did his toes, his legs, his ankles. I cut and chopped and slaughtered, until the images in my head were of my father sitting paralyzed, with no limbs, so he couldn't hurt us. I wished I had the courage to do it. But I wasn't that person. No matter how dark my life became, I didn't live in shadows.

I caught my mother outside Thursday night. She sat on the steps smoking a cigarette while my father sat passed out in the recliner. It could turn ugly if he woke up, and I feared that moment. We weren't allowed outside unsupervised, not even to take out the trash. I stood inside, by the broken screen door, and watched her inhale.

She knew I was behind her. She smiled at the moon and whispered the lyrics to a John Lennon song I couldn't remember the name of.

"You know the funny thing about bitter hate?" she said calmly, not bothering to look back at me. "It's easier to understand. You decide upon it quicker. There's no second guessing, no pondering. There's many different types of love, but only one version of hate. And hatred... it wraps you up in a warm blanket and sets the room on fire. It disintegrates you, but you don't care because it disintegrates everything else in the room too... Everything is equal then, and justice prevails."

I sighed and pressed my forehead to the trim. I wished she wouldn't go down this road tonight. I prayed my father wouldn't wake up and catch her. Who knew what would happen then. Maybe she'd never make it back up the steps to get inside.

"You should try to get some rest," I suggested, opening the door for her, wincing as the springs squeaked.

She stared blankly at the brightest star, unphased by my voice. "Exhaustion pushes you much harder than rest ever can. It's only a state of mind. It tests your willpower, sees if you can beat it."

I left her where she sat and went to bed.

* * *

A storm began to brew. I felt it when the wind touched my arms, in every pore on my body. The hairs rose, the skin tensed. My complexion paled.

Every day that came and went intensified the hold on me. I woke up earlier, stayed up later, rushed to get my chores done, just so I could watch over my parents. I studied them when I cooked their dinner or did their laundry. I watched my mother's feet pad lightly across the cracked linoleum, as if she were floating instead of walking. I noticed that she wouldn't dress in her regular clothes anymore. She stayed in a long, white, bleach-spotted nightgown. Her face slimmed, since she wouldn't eat anything. Her red hair flowed past her shoulders in an unkempt fashion. The bruises showed quicker now. It took no time at all to see my father's hatred show across her lips, below her eyes.

She didn't loud scream when he hit her now. She didn't shiver when he threw me through the bathroom door. She became mute, only speaking when she talked to herself. After my father slept, she'd sometimes crawl into my room and sit over my bed when she thought I was dreaming, whispering something about how a person, with time, could be sculpted into something else entirely. She spoke of love, mentioning how it was deceitful, how it lied, how it no longer existed for her. She said it changed it's mind, chose a different home to bless, a different family to care for. She prayed for my soul but no one else's. Not even her own.

"Don't let it be too late for him," she wept, her hand hovering over my legs but never touching. "Maybe someday he'll forget it all."

She sometimes wished for a time machine, a device we could climb in and have it take us away. She spoke of Rome, of Asia, of Canada. About beautiful islands and waterfalls and seagulls. She began to write on napkins instead of chewing food, numbers and dates. I dug them out of the trash later while everyone slept, tried to decode them. I came up empty. It was nothing but numeric scribbles.

I listened as my father forced my mother have sex with him one night. It was the only time she'd scream, the only time she'd speak up and ask him to stop. The only time the fear came back. He felt he didn't have to stop because they were married. He saw nothing wrong in what he made her do.

I thought of different ways I could bust through the door, get him off of her. But I didn't, because I couldn't, and I hated myself for it. The last time I tried, he'd pulled a gun on me. Thankfully it wasn't loaded.

I punched my pillows, screamed into my sheets, praying that he'd stop and it'd all be over soon. I prayed she'd escape her body.

Time crawled, her screams turned to whimpers, and, for a moment, I thought maybe he had strangled her. But then I heard her cough, and spit, curse him as he passed out from his high. "Stupid bastard," she whimpered, her voice growing angry again as she tossed things around the room.

She spoke of hatred only when he couldn't hear her and react. But what she screamed about him sent shivers through my spine.

The next night, I lay in bed massaging my wrist. It was a wound earned after the trashbag he filled up couldn't support the strain and exploded all over the carpet in the living room. I was on my way to the front door with it.

I never liked to hit my father unless I had no other way out. With my hands and feet, I tried to push him off of me. He caught my right wrist and slammed it on the ground where the step to the kitchen and the living room met, and it popped out of its socket. I quit fighting back instantly, trying not to show the pain in my eyes. I knew he'd enjoy it. After a few more jabs with his knee, he grew tired and climbed off of me to get another beer.

I popped it back in place when he wasn't looking, but it still swelled. I cut up one of my sheets and wrapped it tightly so it would stay in place. It throbbed all night, but I didn't care. He left us alone for the rest of the day and, for that, I considered the evening a success.

Before I knew it, summer arrived. That meant longer hours at home and no more school.

Forks was well known for it's thunderstorms, but the last week had been constant. It rained nonstop. Thunder cracked and roared, lightning fizzled and sparked. The weak ceiling where my bedroom and the hall met sprung a leak. I sat a pot there to catch the rain.

The wooden doors attached to the garage beside my bedroom window banged in resistance to the wind. Each time it set my ears to ring.

My anxiety built as the hours passed. I didn't know why. My father had been tamer the last two days, and I tried to take that into consideration, but it didn't help. I couldn't calm myself down, couldn't quit shaking. I couldn't stop thinking that something was terribly wrong.

It was too quiet. Too eerie. Too dark.

I trembled in my bed, wishing I hadn't cut up my sheet. I didn't have another blanket. Swiftly, I dressed in a gray hoodie and the heaviest jeans I owned with the fewest holes, and curled into a ball. I counted the seconds until daylight.

It never came.

* * *

I was having a nightmare. I stood in a crowded street and watched the glowing orange ember in my mother's eyes flare bright in the distance. My father's face was in the sky, like a god, large and shouting. His hands reached down to choke her. I tried to run to her, to save her from what he was doing, to take the blows. But then she burst into flames.

Gasping, I shot out of the bed, blinking wildly. I quickly focused my eyes. My clock flashed 12:00 over and over again. The power must have gone out.

The wind howled angrily at me. It woke me after I dozed off briefly. It begged me to get out of bed, asked me to see what was going on.

Once the rhythm in my heart slowed, I heard struggling in the next room. My father grunted, threatening my mother's life once more. He called her a slut and a whore, told her how useless she was. I don't know what happened, what set him off this time. He'd been quiet most of the day.

I shut my eyes, shivering, and tugged my hair. I prayed that, if I got out of this bed and went to help her, he wouldn't kill us. Each time I tried to protect her, it felt like my life span shortened.

Something in the back of my head told me to stay where I was, to let it die down on its own. I wouldn't not listen though. What if she needed me?

She never tried to protect me from him, never stood in the way and took any hits for me like I did for her. She even blamed me for setting him off all the time, sometimes said it was my fault. None of that mattered, though. I knew what was right and wrong. I couldn't let it continue.

I hesitated momentarily before crawling to the end of the bed. The dingy green carpet was damp from the bitter storm around us. I noticed it through the slight flashes of light in the hall. Filling my lungs with air, I stepped down into the wet. Everything in the atmosphere felt wrong, charged, misplaced somehow. I never thought out loud much, but I couldn't help myself in that moment. I was scared.

My fingers touched the hinges where my door once hung, and I stilled in the hall, listening to the struggle go on fifteen feet to my left. My father growled as his voice reached a new decibel of hatred. He told her how much he hated her, how she was going to die. "No," my mother begged, followed by thumping of feet or elbows hitting the floor. "No, no, no!"

I leaned forward and pressed my ear to the door, trying to figure out their locations in the room. I didn't want to swing it open and hit my mother in the head if he had her on the floor in a death grip.

With a burst of energy, my hand reached the doorknob. Then everything changed.

A cannon went off. A bomb exploded. A war ended.

Gasping, I stumbled back in shock with the loud boom echoing in my ears. My hands found my heaving chest.

There was no more movement beyond the door. No noise.

The storm outside roared louder, though.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think. My body moved before my brain registered any courage, and I swung the door open in a panic.

Like getting stuck in a revolving door, or being trapped in a maze you cannot escape, what I saw behind that door returns and returns and returns to my nightmares. My mother's crumpled and distorted body, clothes torn and bloody, restless and propped against the far wall. My father lay still on the ground.

I stayed in the door frame, hardened, like a skeleton. Just bones.

A tornado spun around my head. Things started to become clear.

This was impossible. It could not be happening.

It was a bad dream. A forgotten photograph. A movie. These were not my parents. No, they were paid actors.

There was no blood, no splatters, no whimpering. My mother did not hold a gun in her left hand. And my father was not laying motionless in a pool of his own blood.

I fell to my knees, struggling to find air. Thunder ricocheted around us, awakening me, sending chills through my frame. It told me what I didn't want to hear, what I desperately tried to deny. This was real.

With a loud gasp, I crawled over to my father and pressed my fingers to his pulse points. I tried not to look at his bloody broken face.

There was no response. I fought back the urge to throw up.

"What did you do?" I whispered weakly as soon as I found my voice.

My mother trembled, staring off into space, her finger still on the trigger of the loaded gun.

"MOM!" I screamed, as loud as I possibly could. "WHAT DID YOU _DO_?!"

She shivered, her eyes locked on a fresh hole in the wall behind my head, where the bullet went through him.

Then she whispered three faint, numbing words that changed everything. "I ended it."

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than... well, this chapter was depressing as hell to write, so let's just say that reviews will cheer me up. :(  
Bella's POV is next.**


	4. Ch 3: The Glass That Shattered

_"...there are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone."  
_~ Nicole Krauss

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Three : The Glass That Shattered.  
**What happened in Bella's life before Edward that made it all change.  
**Note**: AGAIN, in _Ragweeds_, Esme/Elizabeth is NOT Edward's biological mother, and Renee is NOT Bella's biological mother.

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/lexiconers**.... Thank you for bearing with me through the angst. Thank you for telling me your personal stories, as you or someone you know can relate to either Edward or Bella's lives. It's sad to hear it, to know that people go through this in real life. But it's one of the reasons I enjoy writing. I love to raise awareness and get people's voices heard when they can't find a way to speak for themselves. Please know that you're not alone. *hugs* You may want to fasten your seatbelts with this chapter also but it will ease up soon enough. ;).  
-- To **my lovey, my beta, Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... Always the one who's willing to not only do your part, but also goes that extra step in telling me your feelings, and debating with me about certain aspects. You're not afraid of me. It's what I admire you for. Thank you, a million times over.  
-- Again, thanks to **Kayla (OpenHome)** & **Aura (Rebecca's Mom) **for all your help. I owe you!  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**"I can't leave the house. I can't get out... of bed. I can't stop the tears, from running down my face... again.  
I can't move an inch. I can't feel my legs... and feet. I can't feel the rain, running down my face... again.  
I can't stop the pain. I can't make the fever break. I can't taste the sweat, running down my face... again.  
Can you make it go away?  
I can't even scream. I can't even let it out. I can't see the blood, running down my face... again.  
Can you make it go away?  
Make it go away."  
~ Michelle Featherstone, "Running Down"**_

* * *

**Chapter Three : The Glass That Shattered.**

**BellaPOV **

There were so many things I never imagined before the it all changed. There was stuff I never thought about, never thought I _had _to think about... Like a breeze or blind faith. I knew it existed, but I never saw it coming until it hit me.

When I was a child, my mom highly encouraged me to believe in the tooth fairy, and Santa Clause, and the monster that came if I didn't take my cough syrup. She told me ghost stories about goblins and witches, animating the voices and even drawing pictures on the chalkboard of what she imagined these characters to look like. I never told her I didn't believe any of it, even at a young age. I went along with it, sang the songs, did the dance, laughed at the funny parts, cried during the sad parts, and covered my eyes when it became scary. I did it mostly for her. It was her game, her playground. She was the actress, after all. Who was I? I was the baby, the young one. I was Isabella Harris-Swan... or to most folks, simply Jaqueline Harris's daughter. The pretty girl, the young girl. The brunette in the corner.

My mom did the best she could to keep me out of the spotlight. I wasn't shy or introverted by any means. But that didn't mean I enjoyed strange old men following us to the ice cream parlor or into the post office, snapping pictures and shouting things, as if they had all the right in the world to know about her private life. The hollered questions about who she was dating, how old I was, where my father was, what she ate for breakfast, what screenplay she read, and so on and so forth. Sometimes they'd chase us in cars, honk their horns, cut people off in traffic, occasionally causing a fender-bender. It frightened me to be with her when I was younger. I didn't know who anyone was, couldn't understand the concept. Most days, I did my best to avoid all things related to red carpets and press junkets, even when kids at school mentioned that, if they were in my shoes, they'd be _'doing it up with the celebrities'. _I didn't care about celebrity and money. I just wanted to be sixteen.

The worst part was when the paparazzi would follow us, harass us for long hours, and she'd simply laugh and turn it into another game. She claimed she was trying to make the best out of a hard situation, because she couldn't avoid it. But I knew better. "Let's pretend we're secret agents," she'd giggle as we ducked behind a sales counter. "First one through the back door without being seen wins." Though she protected me from the hassle, she never took it seriously. She loved the attention when it was on her, and when it wasn't, she missed it. In fact, if it didn't come back soon enough, she'd get very upset.

That's why I first began drawing.

She went through what she considered a "_mild drought_" in her career. She wasn't getting very many call-back's, which meant she was home more often. She was always one for the dramatics, complaining that no one cared if she disappeared, how an article said that she wasn't cool anymore. She never said anything in front of me, but always on the phone when she thought I was out of sight, to one of her agents, or her publicist, or whomever would listen. I'd hide in the corner and watch her rant, all the while admiring her beauty and long legs.

My original idea to cheer her up was to pretend to be the paparazzi I loathed, snap a few pictures to make her smile. But I couldn't imagine being one of them, even in the pretend world, so I decided I'd try something a little different and draw her instead. It took me two days, six hours total, before I decided it was presentable enough to show it. As it goes with all artists, I wasn't happy with it and kept picking my work apart until I drove myself crazy. But seeing the look on my mom's face when she opened the folded piece of paper... that beautiful smile and her wide, warm, surprised eyes... I'll always remember that expression. I froze it in time and locked it in my heart.

After hours of admiring it, I asked my mom what she really thought. I demanded the whole truth and nothing but it. And my mom, because she knew I was serious, was kind enough to be honest. She pointed out to me little places where I'd over-exaggerated her jaw line, or trimmed her hair too short. She laughed at all the freckles I gave her, tickling me all the while. But the funny thing was, she said that was the best part about my drawing. She talked about how it was the way _I _saw her, that I gave her a glimpse behind my eyes, and that was what made it beautiful and special to her. She felt like she could read my mind when she looked at my work. That night, she told me she was proud of me for being brave enough to show her something I worked so hard on in private. She said it was like sharing another secret. I loved our secrets.

That single picture made us closer than ever before. And, I was hooked on art from that moment on.

* * *

The public school I went to in Seattle was kind enough to understand my mom's schedule. When it was time for her to film, they'd give me weeks of away time, where I did my schoolwork with her on set and later would email or fax it back to them. As long as I finished my work, they compromised easily with us. I felt very blessed. But, sometimes, I missed my friends and my normal high school life when I sat in the corner of a hollow film set, full of crew members and lights and service people, with no one I knew besides my mom and a few of her agents or her make-up artist Shira.

I spent most of my time reading books, drawing, and, occasionally, fantasizing about where else I'd rather my mom and I be instead. Maybe a deserted island or a freezing cold ski-slope. Sometimes the fantasies would progress and I'd be older, under a waterfall with a mysterious lover. It never failed that my mom would pick those precise moments to notice me staring off, making some sly comment, and my blush would give every thing away. She gave me the sex lecture when I was thirteen and got my first period, so she felt from then on I could be honest with her about boys. Most of the time, I would tell her the truth. Other times, I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn't feel the need to tell her _everything_.

It's not like she told _me _everything all the time. Not about all her feelings, her fears.

Especially when it came to a man named Tom Carny.

For as long as I could remember, my mom made it clear to me that she never wanted to be married. She never married my father. She said she had everything she could possibly want, so what would a man be for her except a fly on a wall and someone to warm her sheets? She remained passionate about independence, equal rights, and fair roles, dignity and self-respect. She was what the _New York Times_ considered, "_a__ woman's woman_". Seeing her face on a billboard represented strength, courage, willpower, guts. She flaunted it proudly with the press. Sure, her flirtatious nature and cock-tease reputation got her into all sorts of trouble as the years went by. But she never apologized, never took back her words for any thing or any one. Except for Tom Carny.

Tom fought hard to win over my mom. And, it was a good thing he had patience because it took a long while to do it. She'd blow him off when he tried to speak, claim she never ate when he asked her to dinner, that she'd rather crawl through lava and glass before she was seen in public with him. He was an up-and-coming agent, only had one client at the time. She scoffed at his willpower, his blue dress shoes, his spiky hair-cut, his suave smile. She ignored him when he'd come and talk with her agents, trying to get her on his team. She wanted nothing to do with him.

It took getting into my good graces to make her come around. I was young, twelve at the time. After watching men spend time with my mom only to leave over and over before the sun went down, I decided I wanted more structure. I wanted to see what it felt to have a man pay for dinner, put his jacket around my mom's shoulders, take care of her for a while. I wanted to hide behind the couch and watch them dance in the middle of the living room. More importantly, I wanted _her _to experience those things.

After a few weeks of him pursuing my mom, I decided to give him a chance. And I fell in love with his charm immediately.

"Mom, please go out with him!" I begged, following her around her trailer.

"Why on earth would I want to do that, Isabella?" she asked, shaking her head.

"He's nice, he's charming, he works, and he likes you?"

"He doesn't _like _me," she scoffed. "Men don't _like _women, darling, this isn't middle school. They _want _them. They want them to be another knotch on their belt. And if I simply gave him what he wants the most, who says he'll be back tomorrow? Always, always leave a man wanting more. If they don't have the decency to wait for you, then they simply aren't worth it in the long run."

I scoffed and pouted, crossing my arms. "I like him."

"Then you date him."

"I'm twelve!"

My mom laughed, her perfect teeth shining. "Then I guess you and... _Mr. Carny _are both out of luck."

I rushed over to her, dropped to my knees, and grabbed her hands, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes. "I swear, if you go out with him and give him an actual chance, I will go to bed on time, I won't fuss about doing the dishes, I'll eat freakin' disgusting Chinese food when you order it, and I'll do my best to get A's in Math."

My mom shook her head, smiling adoringly down at me.

"Come on!" I cried, huffing harder.

She shook her head.

"Fine, _fine_. Okay? Fine. I'll... learn how to iron too. So you don't have to do it anymore."

She grinned at me, pursed her lips. She was thinking. Thinking was good.

"Please?" I begged, batting my lashes. "Pretty please? I promise, I think he's a good guy, and if you don't like him, I can go with you and do the fake cough or the pass out in the resturant, or anything you need to get us out of there. But please, please, _please _give him a chance, will you pl-"

"Oh _alr__ight_," she sighed, covering my chatty lips. "Fine. I'll go to a... lunch _meeting_... with him, if you not only go and do as you promised, but also never beg me to see him again if I decide he isn't worth it."

I jumped in her arms, almost knocking her into the window she was sitting in front of. "Yes! I promise!"

She giggled, squeezing me tight to her chest. I'd never been more happy than at that moment. My mom letting down her guard was like watching a baby deer take it's first steps into the wilderness. Anything could happen. And it did.

Tom not only played his cards well, but he played them _right_. He won pots left and right. He knew every angle and way to dazzle her. Long weekends in Maui. Dinner in Washington. He took us to France for a week. But it wasn't just the big events that earned him points. My mom could have paid for all that herself. Tom knew this, so he swept her off her feet with the little things, things she'd never done before, like watching a race, or going horseback riding, or helping me with school work. He adored me, and that melted her heart. Four months later, my mom was nothing more than the love-sick, dancing-in-the-stars type of woman she once resented.

They kept their life out of the lime light for a good amount of time before the press caught wind of it. Once the pictures were sold to tabloids, the relationship began to turn. Executives at Tom's company said he was interfering with their business, discouraging potential clients. He fought with them, never with my mom. But once my mom heard about it, she tried to push him away. "Go do what you have to do," she said, slamming the door in his face, which he reopened immediately. "I'm not stopping you."

"I'm not going to let them win, Jacquelin!" he shouted angrily, following her through our house. "I can do my job and have a personal life!"

"But part of your personal life is in your job!" she argued back. "Me. I'm your client."

"You're more than a client to me."

"But not to them."

She kicked him out that night and ignored him for a week. I didn't speak to her the entire time either. I was mad. Mad that she was thinking of herself, mad that she wouldn't let us be happy. Tom brought a lot of balance to our lives. How could she dare take that away because of her own self-doubt?

"You will get over it," she exhaled sadly after one argument we had. But I knew she was talking more to herself than to me.

"No," I exhaled slowly. "I won't."

After the press tour, we returned to Seattle, our home base. School became school, mom was still mom. She grew tired of moping around, tried to move on with her life with the occasional visitor. But no one pleased her like he did. No one gave her more than a knife so she could add her knotch to their belt. Just as they wanted, like she always said.

After months of unreturned phone calls, Tom left a heated message on mom's voicemail, claiming he was through waiting on her, that he was moving on, and that he was dropping her as his client. For some reason, that was a slap in the face to her. She didn't like knowing he held the strings, making her his puppet. "Who does he think he is?" she scoffed, storming around the coffee table. "Ending things with _me_. Does he have any idea what he's done? Who I am? No one dumps me, Isabella! Not even as a client!"

"Mom, he's angry, and he has every right to be. You pushed him away."

"He was going to lose his job!"

I jumped off the couch and glared at her. "It wasn't about that and you know it!" I argued, raising my voice with her. I had never done that before. The shock on her face was evident. "You were scared!" I continued. "Scared of feeling vulnerable, scared of letting yourself go! You probably thought about it, tried to find a way out because you got too freaked. This was the perfect opportunity. A threat to his job as the perfect excuse. You saw it and you rushed to end it because it was your only way to escape getting hurt once the relationship failed, like you supposedly _knew _it would!"

"Don't raise your voice with me, youn-"

"Someone has to!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "Someone has to scream, to wake you up! Mom, I love you. You're my best friend! But how do you think this effects me, hmm? I loved Tom, he loved us, and he did nothing wrong, and you ripped all of our hearts out because of your own insecurity! Why can't you just let us all be happy?!"

She shook her head fast. "One day you'll understand what vulnerability gets you, Isabella. You let your guard down, you trust people, and they'll drive a stake in your heart as soon as it gets too dark for them. No one deserves to know _everything _about you, every desire, every thought. And that's what love does to you. That's why it curses you, makes you weak. It waters you down until you're nothing but an unrecognizable shadow of yourself."

She took a deep breath. "You think _I'm _not hurting too? You think my heart isn't aching for him? But I can't let him back now, Isabella. What's done is done and if he were to walk through that door and then it does end eventually, do you know who besides my reflection could say, _'I told you so'_?"

I couldn't answer her. I was too worked up, too upset.

She took a second to calm down, then answered the question herself. "I'll tell you who. Everyone who's been burned before," she said. "Everyone who doesn't want to be burned again. Flame is a lesson you don't need to learn twice. Once is enough."

During the weeks that followed, things slowly returned to normal. I felt I had no one when I didn't have my mom, so I stopped screaming at her and blaming her for their relationship ending. It wasn't worth it. I wanted my mom back.

There were days of joy and elation, when she'd get a call back or see herself in _Cosmo_. But there were days of sadness, when she'd hear a song that reminded her of their trip to France, or find one of his old shirts at the bottom of her closet. The wastebasket filled with crumpled letters she'd never send to him. She moped around, drank wine from sunrise to sunset, and murmured about what it meant to love and lose someone. Sometimes I'd try to cheer her up with a board game, or a caricature I drew of her. But she never stayed cheered for long. She'd never say it out loud, for fear that my temper would ignite again, but she missed him.

She always missed him.

For four years, she missed him. And, I missed him, too. So, when I watched him saunter across her latest film set in his well-cut suit, bluetooth attached to his ear, my heart skipped and slowed at the same time. It was such a shock to see his handsome face. They hadn't spoken in years, as far as I was aware.

Without thinking, I tossed my sketchbook on the pavement and ran to him, laughing. I didn't know if he recognized me. I had filled out in a few places while he was gone. But as soon as he saw me, he opened his arms and I leapt into them. "Tom!" I shouted, inhaling his familiar scent of woodpine and man. "What are you doing here?!"

"Bella!" he chuckled, bouncing us up and down, "you've grown so big! Look at you, so beautiful! God, you look like your mother."

I laughed as he set me back on the ground. "What are you doing here?" I asked again, not letting him go.

"Your mother called me, said she was back in town. For a moment I thought this was another of her games. You know she's played a few over the years. But, it's obviously true, since you're here. How ya been, kiddo?"

"Good," I beamed up at him. "I'm happy to see you."

He threw his arm around my shoulder and tucked me into his side. "I'm happy to see you too. Come on, let's go find your mom."

I half expected mom to pick up one of the prop knives off the table in front of her and toss it at his head. I felt nervous the entire walk toward her. It surprised me greatly when she took a deep breath and walked over to us, still in the formal gown from her last scene. "Tom," she exhaled, taking his hands. I had to duck beneath his arms to get out of the way. "It's been too long."

"Indeed it has," he replied with a warm grin that was sure to melt her heart. He hadn't lost his charm at all.

Tom took us to dinner, made us laugh, showed us the pier, took us for a walk down the beach. He spoke little about work, claiming he didn't want to bore us. But we knew all about his successes, the celebrity clients he had gained. He was doing amazing in the field. The fact that he didn't want to discuss it showed exactly what kind of man he was. A respectful one. My mom didn't stand a chance.

He came home with us when she wrapped the film in November. I thought we were safe, thought everything was happening for a reason. I believed in fate for the very first time, saw what I thought it was with my own two eyes.

As days passed, however, something changed. The wind blew, the dust spiraled up. They'd bicker about small things, and then argue later because they had bickered. My mom was so stubborn, she wouldn't let anything go without a fight. I didn't know if she was trying to push him away again but I begged her not to. I wanted this to work. I wanted Tom to become my stepfather, at the very least, maybe even adopt me. I wanted us to be a family. I cried for it, prayed for it, anything I could. But it wasn't enough, and after a few weeks, Tom got fed up. She asked him to make love to her one last time. After, he left her in her master suite, kissed me on the forehead while I sat on the couch watching CNN, gathered his briefcase, and left.

I didn't fight with my mom after that. I knew she hurt just as badly as I did. I saw it in her eyes, saw it in the way she presented herself. This was way worse than the last time, when she swore she'd never need to learn the same lesson twice. I don't know why she touched the flame, she let it burn her too deep.

Days fled. She wouldn't come out of her room. She wouldn't eat. She'd try to smile whenever I hugged her, show me she was fine. But she was my best friend. My twin in some ways. We had the same eyes, the same soft hands, the same lips, long hair, same facial expressions. I knew her joy. I knew her pain. I was involved with it. With every aspect of it.

We were all each other had.

"Mom," I sighed as I crawled in to her bed, removing the empty wine bottle and glass that lay next to her pillow.

I pushed her robed body off it's stomach and brushed the silk hair out of her face. "I think you've had enough for today."

Her brown eyes swelled with tears and she nodded her head, swallowing deeply. "I think I have, too, sweetie."

The wind rattled the glass doors to her balcony, startling me momentarily. I took a deep breath, refocusing on her. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

Mom shook her head and pulled me down onto the blankets, wrapping me up in her body heat until all I smelled was fabric softener and Tempranillo wine. "No baby," she sobbed, squeezing me tighter. "All I need is you tonight."

My heart ached as I held her close. I wanted to fix her. I wanted the universe to shift, for us to get better.

I needed her to forgive me for ever begging her to allow Tom Carny into our lives, only to destroy our hearts later. I loved him, but he couldn't do this to us anymore. Even if he didn't mean to.

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, showing me her vulnerability for the first time ever. Her body shook. How could it be shaking when she was so warm? "Please stay in here tonight, Isabella?"

"I will," I closed my eyes, massaging her hands. My hands. Our hands.

"Please don't be scared. I promise, things will get better."

"I'm not scared," I insisted softly. "I just want you to feel good again."

She nodded, hugging me as tightly as possible. "I will soon," she promised, before whispering in my ear, "...I love you and wrap you in stars."

* * *

Like every day, I woke up early, when the sun was still rising. I looked to see my mom rolled away to face the window, the covers tucked to her chin. It was a new day, a fresh start. I wanted to keep the optimism, prove to her that we'd make it through.

I crawled carefully out of the bed, tiptoed out of the room, and into my bathroom to take a long shower. I wanted to let her sleep as long as possible, knew she sobbed through the night when she thought I was asleep. I didn't drift away until close to one, still wrapped completely in her arms. But now, it was her turn to rest, to dream about Tom or whatever would make her happy again. Because that was all I wanted. To see a true smile.

After my shower, I took Jax for a walk around the yard, recalling the days when we first got him, how he ran around everywhere. Now he walked steadily beside me. When we went back inside, I drew for a little while, inspired by Jax's changes. _Regis & Kelly_ played on the television behind me with the volume low. I never paid too much attention to the box, unless it was news. I loved _Nancy Grace_, had a strange obsession with her. She was a powerful lady, like my mom. I admired her for that.

After a while I checked on her, to find her still asleep. I went back downstairs to the kitchen, deciding a way to get her up. My mom loved the smell of fresh coffee, often saying only that and callbacks were what woke her up to a good morning. I filled the pot with water and closed the lid, waiting while it brewed. I didn't know how to cook much because mom loved to do that for me, and I didn't dare to try and burn the kitchen down. Instead, I peeled some oranges and added them to a bowl with bananas and fresh strawberries.

Mom's bedroom was a bright gold, with the sun high in the sky and shining through the glass. The room had drained of all scents, the smell of alcohol finally clearing. I walked around to the side my mom slept on and placed the breakfast tray on the nightstand, along with her glass of orange juice, coffee, and a tiny note with a smiley face. I hoped when she saw it, it'd cheer her up.

Jax hopped on the bed, trying to get my attention, but I shooed him away. Mom's lips were parted, and she wasn't snoring, which shocked me. She always snored lightly when she had too much to drink. Maybe I had overestimated her intake.

"Mom, time to wake up," I whispered softly, smiling at her beauty. I brushed the hair from her face, a whiff of metal floating in my direction. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and my stomach twisted in a weird way. My mom didn't respond. She was a light sleeper.

"Mom," I said again as I shook her gently. "I made you breakfast... your favorite."

She didn't do anything. I shook her harder, waiting for her to pop up, act like a drama queen, demand more sleep like she sometimes did. But her head simply lolled to one side.

My heart climbed in my chest. "Mom, time to get _up_," I almost sneered, wishing she'd stop playing around. We weren't on a film set and this wasn't rehearsal time. Why was she doing this? "Mom!" I screamed in her ear, shaking her harder. "Stop goofing around. I don't think you're funny at all."

Nothing. Not even a smirk at the corner of her lips.

Exhaling, I grasped her right arm with my hands and shook the hell out of her. That'd wake her up. It had to. "Mom! Wake up!" I laughed, growling playfully at her. "Stop with the dramatics and eat your breakfast. I slaved in the kitchen for two whole minutes! You'd be so proud."

As I shook her, I heard a rattle, and then a thunk. My hands stilled as my eyes roamed down the side of the bed skirt to the plush white carpet, where a pill bottle lay. My heart climbed even higher, almost inside my throat. Something wasn't right.

"Mom," I whispered shakily, slowly lifting my hands from her arm. I bent down, watching her face the entire time. I reached toward the carpet until my fingers wound around the bottle.

Something was definitely wrong.

With trembling hands, I looked at the label. It was the Vicodin she got after she hurt her back doing her own stunt nine days prior. I read it carefully. Taken twice a day for pain, the prescription was for 30 pills. There were three remaining. That didn't add up. I turned the bottle. Read the warnings: MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS; ALCOHOL INTENSIFIES EFFECT, USE WITH CARE WHILE OPERATING MACHINERY, TAKING MORE THAN RECOMMENDED MAY CAUSE BREATHING PROBLEMS, DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES WHILE TAKING THIS MEDICATION.

Gasping, I dropped to my hands and knees, looked beneath the bed, in her covers, on the nightstand. There were no dropped pills. Not one.

I glanced back up at my mom's face. That's when I noticed she was not breathing. Her complexion had a faint blue tint to it.

The sound that came from my throat was not a scream. I felt a tunnel open up behind me, sucking me into it.

I tried to yell for her, tried to reach over and grab the phone. I couldn't find my balance, knocked everything off the nightstand, causing the glass to shatter. I clawed at the curtains so I wouldn't fall back to the ground, but they wouldn't hold me. The fabric and the rod came down and I crashed anyway. My lips moved, I heard my screams in echoes as I crawled franticly back over to the nightstand. The phone fell into the crack between it and the bed, and I yanked it back to me, dropped it once, and picked it up again.

The operator answered immediately, and though I thought my response, I wasn't sure if I said anything at all. I heard buzzing in my ears, felt the static and sweat cling to my body. The lady told me to stay on the line with her but I dropped the phone as I stared at my mom's eyelashes. I felt my entire being grow numb.

_"MOM!!" _I screamed as loud as I could, crawling over to her. I tried to shake her, shake her as hard as possible. Maybe it wasn't too late, maybe she didn't drink too much, maybe she'd flushed the rest of them. She never liked taking pills before. This couldn't be right. Was it an accidental overdose?

I screamed her name again, straddled her, tried to beat her chest. The tears streamed down my face, onto her white silk robe, soaking it thoroughly. "PLEASE WAKE UP!" I screamed into her face, into her ears. "PLEASE, _PLEASE_, WAKE UP!"

She never stirred.

"MOM?! _MOMMY_!!"

I slapped her, growled, lifted her upper body from the mattress. She was too heavy, too awkward. Too stiff. It almost made me sick.

I couldn't get sick. I needed to calm down if I was going to save her.

"Okay mom," my voice trembled as I tried to maintain some perspective. "You're going to be okay. Do you hear me? You're going to be okay, and the ambulance is on its way, and you're going to be okay. All right? I 've got you, I promise, we'll make it. Just stay with me, okay? I need you, please. Stay with me!"

Still no response.

"MOM!" I shouted, growing angrier and more scared. "DO NOT DO THIS! OKAY! DO _NOT!_" I dropped her limp body back down, pushed my face into her collar bone, squeezed her into the tighest hug I could manage. "STAY WITH ME! _MOM!_ STAY WITH ME, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, _PLEASE_, I DON'T HAVE ANY BODY ELSE! MOM!! ARE YOU LISTENING! MOM!"

Her lips were slightly chapped. She looked so pale, so cold.

I kissed her face, her cold hands, her wrists. She used to kiss me when I got hurt, maybe it'd help. I didn't know what else to do.

I repeated her name, calling her out of her mind, praying she'd open her eyes. "Mommy," I whimpered, barely. "Stay...."

She didn't respond. She never did.

By the time the ambulance arrived, I was weeping in her nightgown, hovering over her body, murmuring, "don't go, don't go, don't go..." over and over again. I knew she was dead at that point.

It took two police officers to pull me from her, kicking and screaming. I didn't want to let her go, didn't want to lose the feel of her. Then it would truly be real.

They tried to question me, tried to get some answers while they were fresh in my mind. What did she take? How was her mental history? Was there anyone here with her last night? Were there any signs?

I didn't say a word. I stared from the banister into her bedroom while they loaded her onto a gurney.

Weak, I watched her arm fall limp, her fingers dangling lifelessly.

The sheet they covered her with didn't reach her hand.

I didn't have anything to say, couldn't feel any emotion at all. I couldn't even cry anymore.

The only thought that registered in my mind, over and over again, was how it was all my fault. I made her give in to Tom. I let her sleep longer. I didn't do enough. I, I, I... It was all me. I let her down.

Like a large crowd, being tugged in different directions, I reached out for her but couldn't find anything. There were no fingers to take. She was no longer there.

The paramedic walked around and grabbed her hand, tucking it beneath the sheet.

But I knew all too well what it looked like, even when it was hidden again. All I had to do was look down at my own hands.

They were hers also.

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than knowing E/B are about to collide soon enough.**


	5. CH 4: A Silence Deserved

_"...A single moment of understanding can flood a whole life with meaning."  
_~ Anonymous

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Four : A Silence Deserved.  
**Edward's been in the industrial group home for four and a half months, by the time Bella arrives. This is where they meet. (Remember, they are angry and confused.)  
PICTURES of The Volturi Center in profile. (Please know that I've never stepped foot in one of those buildings, and the pics are missing locks, etc, but... you can use your imagination on the parts left out.)  
***** IMPORTANT NOTE**: Next Monday, there might NOT be a RW update. It's my 25th birthday on the 30th of November, and I may be going out. Be prepared, just in case.

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/lexiconers**.... thank you for providing feedback and for supporting this story, recc'ing it to others and especially reviewing. It means a lot. Come chat with me on Twilighted, okay? Link is in profile.  
-- To **my lovey, my beta, Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... thank you for being the wall I can lean on through the rocky times. You're strong and sure, and you give me hope that I can someday be the same and stop doubting things. Even the littlest things.  
-- Again, thanks to **Kayla (OpenHome)** & **Aura (Rebecca's Mom) **for all your help with the pictures and the information. I owe you both!  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**"I swear to God we've been down this road before.  
The guilt's no good, and it only shames us more.  
And the truths that we all try to hide, are so much clearer when it's not our lives.  
...When we don't face the blame.  
Won't you (get on your knees) believe (have faith) in this lie with us all?  
But now my body's on the floor, and I am calling, well I'm calling out to you...  
...Can you hear me now?"  
~ Framing Hanley, "Hear Me Now"  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Four : A Silence Deserved.**

**EdwardPOV **

"Yo, Copperhead," the black-haired boy with the chipped front tooth said as he slid across the wooden bench, slamming hard into my right side. "You got a light?"

I looked over and glared at him. I hadn't cared enough to memorize his name when he introduced himself to me weeks back. He had the attitude of a four year old. "No."

He glanced at the small blue lighter in my hand and laughed. "Bullshit. I know you do. I see it, man. Give me."

I turned away from him and stared out at the trees, ignoring the curse words that flew from his lips and the traffic in front of the building. I wasn't giving him my lighter. He could fend for himself. We weren't supposed to have them in the first place.

This was what I had become. Was I bitter? Sour? Upset? Hurt? Conflicted? That's what all the counselors, all the therapists, and all the caseworkers said right before they tried to pry information out of me. Even my mother's lawyer, Phil Dwyer, said that. And they were right. Damn straight they were. I had reason to be.

There were a few things I'd learned during my stay at the Volturi Center For Children, or as most called it, "_The Volt_":

One; anger has an extensive appetite. It's never satisfied. It eats and eats and eats until it consumes every single cell in your body. And then it uses you as its fuse.

Two; anger is infectious. Once it comes out of you, it latches onto someone else, then the next person, then the next, spreading like ivy up, down, and across the brick building I'd been trapped in for months now. It uses everyone, takes away all their energy, darkens their eyes, bruises their cheeks. Everyone in this building was angry about something. There was no good day. If, by some slim chance, you woke up with a smile, it was quickly wiped away once someone accused you of stealing something of theirs or told you to get out of a public room like they own it.

And the final thing I'd learned was to trust no one. No one wanted to be your friend. No one wanted to hear your sob story. Some claimed they did, they would even nod and smile as you spilled your guts. But it was all a game. If you gave them any important piece of information that they could use against you, you'd find yourself under the bus faster than you could blink. They only used it to get ahead of the pack, to be the next one out.

"Please man?" he said, watching the flame flare and disappear as I flicked the lighter. "Copperhead? Yo, come on, man."

"I said no," I pronounced each word bitterly, glaring at him. He was the one who sold me out two months ago. He overheard me telling someone else something private about my mother. Told one person, who told fifty, and then he almost got placed. Didn't, but almost. It was enough for me to want to burn his fucking eyelashes off.

The boy scoffed and rose from the table, kicking the edge of my bench with the sole of his worn tennis shoe. "Asshole."

Unbothered, I ran the edge of the orange flame around the middle of my open palm. Each time it touched me, it reminded me of the dream I had, where my mother burst into flames while my father's huge hands reached down to choke her. The night of the revolving door, in my memory. The night she killed my father by pulling a trigger and blowing his face all over the walls. That dream was a warning. A game. Another test I failed.

"Edward, why don't you want to talk about it?" one of the caseworkers asked me a few weeks back, as he fiddled with his mustache.

"I have nothing to say," I shrugged.

"Why not?" the next therapist pried. She always kept a yellow notepad in her lap but never wrote on it. She tapped her pen on the binding that kept the sheets together. That was all the action it got.

"You tell me," I replied, never meeting her eyes. "You're the therapist."

"Edward, this isn't healthy for you," the counselor with the long blonde hair sighed as she adjusted her black-rimmed glasses. I had endured weeks of this. My answers didn't change. I didn't know what they wanted from me. My soul? Take it. "You need to let it out. There's still hope for a full recovery."

_A full recovery?_ I wished I could throw the chair that I was sitting in across the room. How the hell was that supposed to happen? My father's dead. My mother's in the mental ward of a hospital in the south side of Seattle. I dealt with court hearings every fucking week; lawyers, judges, caseworkers. More and more and more never-ending questions. Every day, I received constant damned reminders of how shitty my life had been for the last sixteen and a half fucking years, and they were trying to tell me there was still hope for _a full recovery_? There'd never been anything to recover from! There'd never been any other way of life for me.

They didn't know a god damn thing about me and what I'd been through. They didn't even give a shit. They just wanted to look like someone who does something important and then get paid for their polite smile and concerned eyes. The same smile and eyes that were mirrored on each of their faces at different times, in different offices. The same fake-as-fuck expression. That day, I just exhaled and fiddled with the broken plastic piece on my brown shoe string. "I don't believe in hope, Miss Montgomery. And I don't think a recovery is going to change a thing."

"Everyone should believe in something, Edward."

Yep. The typical, get-you-to-talk response. It worked for the first week I was there, when I trusted them.

"You're right," I told her as she glanced at her watch, noticing our meeting was up. She never looked more relieved. "I believe in two things. Two things are certain in this world. One, life is shitty and it only gets better when you die. And two, death is certain."

She stood up from her chair, dusted off her pants, and gathered her things. "Great. I think we've made progress, don't you?"

She hadn't listened to a word I said. I wasn't surprised. I gave her the same fake smile she'd given me the entire hour.

Miss Montgomery continued anyway. "I'll talk to your other counselors and your therapist about it. We'll pick back up on this next week."

I scoffed and watched her walk away, hurrying as the door to her freedom inched closer. Just as I'd done every week since I've been here. Like I said. No one wants to hear your sob story. Not even the help. The only thing that would change would be extra eyes watching, and more utensils taken away. I wasn't allowed a fork or a knife. I also wasn't allowed a razor to shave or scissors to cut my hair. Their fears that I would kill myself intensified with each meeting I had, because when I spoke, it was often "too dark" for someone my age, things I should not be saying. But, I wasn't suicidal and I'm not a murderer. If I was going to kill myself, I would have let my father do it one of the million and one opportunities he'd had. Sometimes, I still wonder why I didn't let him.

"Hey Edward," the girl with a sweet smile and shiny hair said as she sat beside me on the park bench. She was the only person I cared to speak with here at the time, the only nice one around. I liked her. I memorized her name when she introduced herself the first week I arrived. "This seat taken?"

I looked over to her and shook my head. She lost both parents to a car accident. No relatives. Been in and out of foster homes since she was nine, and yet somehow, she still smiles. I wished I had her courage. "How are you doing, Angela?" I asked as she ran her fingers through her hair and stared into space.

"Hungry," she replied with a shrug and a frown. "Alec took my tray again today. This is the third time this week."

I glanced over my shoulder at the childish boy who had asked me for my lighter earlier. He was taunting anyone who'd pay attention to him. "That Alec?"

"The one and the same," she retorted. "Don't worry about it. I can wait until lunch."

I lifted my bookbag from between my legs, dusted the dirt from the bottom, and unzipped it. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then removed a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Swiftly, I slid it under her hands. "He'll get what's coming to him," I said, nodding toward the bag.

She grinned and tore it open, plowing into it. "Thank you so much, Edward. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it," I sighed as I glanced back up at the trees. The wind was blowing in a different direction than it had in months. I knew what that meant. My mother had been right when she spoke about the wind. It always brought change. I learned it that night, and I'd never ignore her words again. Even now. "I have plenty."

She grinned and chewed in silence next to me through the remainder of our lunch break. We did our best to ignore the hall monitors in the corners.

No one gave us any privacy here. Silence didn't exist.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching the traffic die down and the roads get dirtier. I'd never been on this side of Seattle before, and obviously with good reason. It didn't look promising.

They gave me twenty minutes. That was it. Twenty minutes from the time she was officially pronounced dead to the time I was driven to my house and told to gather everything I could. "I'm sorry," the lady from Children's Services said quietly. "You won't be coming back for anything left behind."

My mom had a plan for me if anything were to happen to her. Accordingly, the court immediately awarded guardianship of me to my grandmother, who was also given most everything my mom owned. Sounds great, right? I mean family's important, yes? Hardly. And here's why: My mom hated my grandmother. And vice versa.

When I said I only had my mom, I meant it. She was it. She was my mom, my sister, my confidante, my teacher, and my best friend. Fame came with decisions, and when her family didn't approve of whatever she did to get to where she was, they pushed her away, closed the door, and threw away the key. They never tried to contact us. They never tried to send gifts, or cards, or make a phone call to ask how we'd been all those years. And now I was supposed to live with them?

I lasted nine days there. From the moment I walked into the house, all I heard was, "I told her not to get involved in that type of scene. It's blasphemy. Nothing good comes from it. Hollywood is filled with demons and whores, and your mother fell into both traps." All my aunts and uncles and cousins spoke about was my mom's will, trying to decipher why she left most of it to them and who got what. The only thing I could figure was that maybe she thought they'd give me the chance they never gave her. That they'd grow to love me and care for me.

Ha! They never even looked my way unless they wanted to know about our estate in California or how to access my mom's bank account. They wanted all the dirt. More, more, more. It didn't matter that the fine print of the will suggested that I'd earn a part of her estate after my twenty-first birthday. I didn't know what "earn" meant, but if it suggested I'd earn it through _them_, I could kiss it goodbye. And that's what I did. Kissed it all goodbye.

I wasn't Isabella Swan-Harris any longer. I was a picture frame on a wall. A broken lamp in the corner. No one asked me how my day was, how I was feeling, what I was going through, if I needed anything. No one cared.

So I grew angry. I threw a fit when they looked my direction or asked me a question from down the hall. I got mad when they sifted through my bags, trying to figure out if I was hiding anything valuable. I didn't want to look in the mirror anymore. I had too much of her in me, and I hated it. I hated seeing her eyes, her smile, her nose, her fingers... all these traits mixed within my own. It wasn't enough. There was still some of me in there, and that meant there wasn't enough of her. There'd never be enough. I'd never have her back. She'd never be mine again.

After I locked myself in the upstairs bedroom for four days, wallowing over pictures of us and not eating anything, my grandmother had had enough. "Come get this child," she shouted over the phone. "She's no better off than where her mother is now."

None of my mom's remaining family members even offered condolences. They didn't want me. I was a troublemaker, a spoiled brat, they said. "She can find her own way," my aunt Tasha scoffed as I shoved my dirty clothes into a garbage bag. I never unpacked anything else. I knew I wouldn't last there, not with my mom's temper. "She'll see how tough the world is when she steps away from mommy's money."

I didn't say goodbye when I climbed into the car. They took everything my mother worked hard for, everything she'd earned. I didn't owe them anything else.

"You might like it here," my new caseworker sighed, snapping me out of my thoughts as she flipped her shades to the top of her blonde locks. "Give it a chance, Isabella."

"_Bella_," I quickly corrected her, shuddering slightly as I fought to keep my eyes open. I watched the grey clouds gather. The forecast called for rain all week. "It's... just _Bella _now, please."

"Well," she cleared her throat. "Bella. Give it a chance, okay? There's plenty of kids going through the same things you are, or something like it. You'll be able to relate easier to them. Try to... make some friends."

I rolled my eyes and stared out, watching a homeless man push a wobbly shopping cart across the street. He had two empty cans inside of it, one with a Bud Light label, the other Bush's Baked Beans. They were his valuables, and sadly, I felt he had more than I did at that moment. I didn't even have a heart to beat in my chest, it felt. All that was there was hollow.

I fought to keep it together as we pulled my things from her trunk. I didn't take a moment to glance outside the long, dirty building being eaten by moss and ivy. I was sure I'd have plenty of chances to get familiar with it.

Rosalie led me through the double doors, toward a lady behind a desk. After some paperwork, she and the older lady walked me down the crowded hall, toward the girl's wing. She explained that there were over a hundred kids, gave me an overview of the rules, and said if I needed anything to not hesitate to ask. "With as many occupants as we have, it may take a while to get it, but we'll do our best," she reassured me. Kids sneered and stared and gossiped as we passed. A girl with long brown hair laughed as the boy beside her whispered not too carefully, "Money, definitely." I didn't glance back at them. They looked dangerous.

As the volume in the hall lowered and people scattered, we entered a room to the right with blood red walls and seven sets of black metal bunk beds. There was a place for a few items of clothing, a couple of end tables, and a row of lock boxes. Not much else. She pointed to an empty bunk bed and, without thinking, I tossed my bag on it.

"Oh no, no, no," the old lady said as Rosalie lifted my bag from the bed. "You don't want to do that, darling. People around here will mistake your trash bag for Santa's bag of presents. Over there, that closet with a lock is yours, as is this lock box down here. Only I have a copy of the key, and we only use it if we feel you're hiding something illegal in there." I shuddered when she called me _darling_, and basically blocked everything else out. It all hurt. It just hurt too much.

I tugged on my sleeve.

The tour progressed, and she introduced me to some of the counselors, therapists, and nurses, and then showed me the common areas such as the restrooms, entertainment areas, cafeteria, kitchen, and a recreational places outside. I couldn't control the toss and turn of my stomach, the consistent urge to vomit. _This _had become my life? This had to be a dream. I wanted to wake up and find I was happily wrapped in my mom's arms. I wanted to hear her light, wine-induced snore in the back of my hair.

As we stood outside in the backyard where everyone was, I looked up at the murky sky, fighting back tears.

"Well," Rosalie said, giving me a supportive smile. "I'll be back in a week to check your progress. Here's my card. Call me if you need anything, do you understand?"

I nodded and shoved the piece of paper into my back pocket.

She studied me momentarily, and her smile fell into a slight frown. "You'll be okay, Bella. I promise."

I swallowed hard and broke eye contact with her. "Sure," I shrugged, tapping my toe against a root sticking out of the ground. "See you soon."

She nodded her head and quickly dropped her sunglasses back to her face, sniffling softly. "See you soon, kid."

"I'll walk you out," the old lady said, leaving me to myself.

I stared numbly at Rosalie's retreating form, and my heart clenched with each foot between us. She seemed so nice. New at her job, but nice. Polite. Kind. Young. Beautiful. I wondered momentarily what her life was like, if she had any children, if she was married. I wished she liked me enough to take me with her.

A lady called for everyone outside to come in, and then people were shoving by me, pushing me out of the way, eventually into the wall. "Watch it, _puta_!" one girl with frizzy hair spat as she glared me up and down. "You's ain't gonna last long if you keep steppin' on people's toes and gettin' in their way."

"S-Sorry," I muttered, shivering at our height difference. At the way she dwarfed my frame. "I didn't mean to."

She scoffed and shook her head, clicking her tongue as people around her laughed and passed us by. "_And _you apologize? I give you a week with that pretty face still attached, tops."

I looked away and closed my eyes as she and her friend laughed and entered the building, murmuring about how I was going to get it.

Fighting the urge to cry, I cradled my chest with both arms, barely holding the pieces of my shattered existence together. I really, really didn't want to be here.

_Please wake up Bella_, I whispered to myself as the cold breeze blew the hair off of my shoulders. _Wake up and be with your mom again. Warm in your bed. You'll have your dog back, and he'll be laying at your feet. Wake up, wake up, wake up... _

I said it and said it and said it until I'd convinced myself it was true.

Then I frowned when I opened my eyes, and slumped down the concrete wall. I was still here.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

_Dear Edward,  
It rains here, a lot. I thought Forks was bad, but Seattle, it seems to rain even more... Maybe it's because I hear it on the tin roofs, pounding away. Maybe it's because I don't have much else to focus on. I can never be sure. The longer I sit here, the more it feels days turn to nights and nights bleed into days. It all combines, the hours, the seconds. Nothing feels certain anymore. And I don't think it's the drug-induced haze that's gotten me so confused. Why haven't you come to see me? I realize the lockdown here is hard to compete with, but I think that if you came and spoke with my doctors, they'd grant you a visit. You're good with talking to people, much better than I ever was. You have that charm, those kind eyes. They'd understand you easier. I wish you would give it a shot. Please consider it.  
How are you these days? How are the kids treating you? Are you making any friends? I know you're upset, but please remember that I won't be here forever. I know you don't understand and you're not telling me or your counselors much, but try to keep in mind that I did what I had to do so you could have a second chance at life. You were going to drown in that home, and it wouldn't be right if I allowed that to happen. After all, I am your mother, even if you're too angry to claim me as that. But if you were to peel back your skin or study yourself closely in the mirror, you'll see me there. I'm in your blood, in your heart. I know what's best for you and that's why I did what I did. Know that I regret nothing. It was all for you.  
~Mother._

Sighing heavily, I tapped a pen on top of my mother's latest letter, watching the ink splatter into tiny dots across her words. I tugged at my hair with my free hand. I didn't want to respond to her, but had a gut-wrenching feeling that if I didn't, something worse might happen to her. I was all she had left. We didn't have any relatives, no one to come and visit and check up on her besides myself. No one ever gave a damn. It was a sad fact that I had gotten used to.

I felt so betrayed, so angry. She claims that she did it all for me? Oh, well, isn't that grand. She couldn't pack a fucking bag and walk out the door beside me, no. She'd rather stay, get beaten, and eventually blow his head off. That made a hell of a lot of sense. I mean, why didn't I think of that?

I ripped a piece of paper from my hand-me-down binder and stared at the lines dividing the page.

_Dear Mother_, I wanted to write. _  
It rains there because life is depressing. That's what you get when you pick the one state in the entire United States that has the highest average precipitation. Congratulations. Another grave you've dug out and are forced to lay in. Am I angry? No, not at all. I'm fucking livid. How dare you tell me that you've done this all for me? That you've taken all those beatings and allowed him to break my ribs and nose and bones, for me? How dare you say that it was me who was going to drown in that home? I wanted to walk! All I've ever wanted was to get out of that place! And this is how you decided to do it? Why couldn't you give me a fucking warning? Why couldn't you say, 'Hey Edward. Be prepared. Tonight I'm going to put a bullet through your father's left eye.' I mean, wouldn't that be easier? Do you have any fucking clue what your actions have done to me? No. You don't. Because you're sitting inside a four-by-four cell, doped out of your fucking mind, listening to rain pellets hit the tin roof, and praying there's still a chance for me. There was never a chance for me, mother. Not since the day you took me home as a newborn. From then on, I was fucked. So... I hope you sleep well at night thinking about all this. I know I won't.  
Sincerely, your... son._

Groaning, I rubbed my face vigorously and took a deep breath. I'd never speak to her that way, never send a letter like that. It didn't matter how angry I was. She was still my mother and I loved her. Some days, I'd even find myself justifying her actions. I'd tell myself that it was our only way out, that she became strong, that it'd make sense when I got older. But then other days, I'd get pissed and want to scream out loud until I lost my voice. There was never any grey area, never any time-out that I could call. It was either pissed off or numb. Those were my options.

Low whistles filled the study area of The Volt, as people shuffled around. "Quiet down," Mr. Maxter said as he pretended to watch over the library. "Take your seats and study." People knocked into the desks surrounding me until all the seats were filled, and then the cat calls resumed at a quieter level.

"Fresh meat," a guy laughed out loud, before getting hushed again.

I listened as a body shuffled through the tight area of the desks. "Excuse me," a soft voice said, "sorry, excuse me." She kept bumping into people with the back pack she was carrying, and pissing a lot of people off in the process. People were so hostile here. Like I said, anger spreads. Fast.

I lifted my head wearily and watched as the new girl stood in the middle of all of our desks, wide-eyed, staring as she tried to find a seat. She chewed on her fingernail, moving in a slow circle. People whispered their typical comments about her, trying to figure out what happened to her to get her here. I pulled my eyes away just before I was caught staring, and wondered why I wanted to keep looking at her.

Angela cleared her throat across the table from me and stood up. "Um, you can sit here by me," she said, and I watched her shadow on the table wave the girl over.

"Oh no Albino Girl cannot!" Alec chuckled as he pulled his discman from his bag. "This world is full of _enough _disappointment. Don't call that girl over here, Angela. For Christ's sake!"

Angela glared at him at the same time I did, and the girl shuffled her feet from left to right. I didn't look at her face. I didn't want to see the heartbreak in it, as the realization of how shitty this place was set in for her. _ Safe haven for kids, my ass_. This place was worse than living on the streets most days. There were too many kids and not enough adults.

"T-That's okay," the girl stammered after a short silence, and rushed past us.

Angela took her seat again and I fought the urge to slap Alec upside the head with my binder.

He turned to me and chuckled before announcing, "Gloves."

I glared at him. I wanted to chip his other tooth. "_What_?" I sneered at him.

He nodded his head toward the new girl crouched on the floor pretending to look through her bag, but feeling really out of place. "Look at her arms," he said. "She's got those little knit glove things, with the finger holes cut out. I bet she cuts."

I studied the blues and greens and yellows in the crocheted fabric that covered her arms and most of her hands. The only part that showed was the tips of her fingernails. I shook my head slowly as Alec bet ten bucks with the girl beside him that the new girl wouldn't last the day, how some girl would find her in a heap on the bathroom floor.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Two weeks later, no progress had been made with my therapists and counselors. I didn't know what they wanted from me. I mean, wasn't their job requirement to simply sit there in a chair, nod, smile, look concerned, and wait until the hour was up? What did they want me to do? Entertain them?

The bench I normally claimed comforted me during my lunch breaks. I wished I could stay there all day.

I lay down along the skinny wooden slab and stared up at the sky, watching the tiny drizzle fall toward me. Some days, I felt too numb to even lift my head. Exhaustion lingered because I wasn't sleeping well. I started having these crazy delusions during the night, where I would be back at home, and my father was attacking me. There'd be times where I shot out of the bed, trying to get away from him inside my head. People made fun of me about it, told me to shut the fuck up and quiet down so they could go to sleep, or else.

_No, I didn't make any friends mother_, I thought to myself, regarding her previous letter. _You can't make friends when people think you're losing it_.

I sighed as the raindrops pelted my forehead.

"Leave me alone," someone said as feet stomped the muddy grass.

"Oh, what's the matter?" Sheena called behind her. "Is your momma's agent going to hire a hitman to kill me? Oh that's right. Your mother's dead. She can't call her agent."

"I asked you to leave me alone," the girl said again, her voice shaking.

I glanced to my right, and watched as the Latino girl stalked after her prey. She was double her size and had a problem with the new girl since she arrived. Something spread across the halls, about the new girl catching Sheena's boyfriend's eye. Sheena didn't approve.

"I can't do that," Sheena called over to her, "because you's and me, we got a problem. Aaron says you's hit on him."

"I did no such thing," the girl said as she took a seat on a bench ten feet from me. "I don't even _look _at him."

"I think you's a lyin' fool."

I sat up and threw my hood over my head, watching as the girl sighed and shook her head, muttering to herself. Big mistake.

"What?" Sheena scoffed, glaring down at the back of her head. "What did you say, _puta_?"

The girl exhaled, clearly fed up, "I said maybe you should pick a different man who will allow you to control him better than Aaron."

Before the new girl could react, Sheena grabbed her by the back of the head and yanked her backward off the bench. She threw her to the ground and straddled her, and then a rush of people ran toward her. I listened as her fist made contact with the girls face through the screaming and shouting of the kids egging her on and the adults trying to get Sheena off of her. I winced each time the _pop_ sound came out. It was a sound I was much too familiar with.

Momentarily, I considered standing up and going in to break it up. The need to do that surprised me. I knew better than to get in the middle. And I was on severe watch now as it was, and knew that if I got into the middle of that fight, they'd take away what little privileges I had left and throw me in isolation. And isolation scared the fuck out of me.

The girl didn't deserve that though, she didn't know any better. How could she know Sheena had a rage problem and a high propensity for jealousy? I couldn't blame her when she saw the new girl walk in, with shiny hair, white skin, and full lips, or at least that's how other kids described her. The only way Sheena felt she could gain control of the situation was by making the new girl ugly. A few bruises and possibly a busted nose, in her sick and twisted mind, would do the trick.

Later that night, I climbed out of bed and noticed that the few adults left were studying CNN like most kids around here admired their food tray. It gave for an easy escape. I roamed the common halls, trying to get some exercise. Sometimes I felt as if I had restless leg syndrome. I couldn't lay there, it was too uncomfortable. I had to keep moving. Maybe it was my constant thoughts that caused the tremors in my legs, I wasn't sure. Whatever it was, if I couldn't talk about it, then I walked off. It was my only form of release.

Normally, I didn't go toward the girls' wing, especially at night. It was strictly off-limits.. Men and women were not allowed together like that. If I got caught, there'd be serious consequences, and again, I didn't want or need any more trouble. But it felt like gravity pulling me in that direction. A nervous feeling rose in the pit of my stomach, telling me something was off. Just like the night of the storm. I couldn't resist it.

Furrowing my brows, I glanced over my shoulder every few seconds, and made my way in a direction I hadn't been before. Most of the lights were off, so roaming down a hallway I wasn't familiar with sent my nerves into over-drive. There were too many opportunities to get caught. I stumbled into a few carts, wincing each time, afraid that I was going to be yelled at. But no one did. No one was around.

Once I touched the far wall a few moments later, I sighed with relief, and did a slow turn, heading back toward my side of the building. Humming softly to myself, I watched the tiled floor pass beneath my feet. As I crossed the door to the girls' restroom, I heard a faint sob echo and skidded to a halt. The crying continued, spreading its bitter sadness. For a moment, I froze and listened to it. It made my heart clench and forced me to wince as I wished it away. I didn't like feeling the pain that reality caused. I'd much rather be numb to it all.

Biting my lip, I glanced behind me and back in front, making sure no adults were awake. The only sound I heard was the humming from the dim light above me, and whatever was going on in the bathroom.

What _was _going on in the bathroom?

Scenes flashed through my mind of my father throwing me through the door, of me crying in the bottom of the shower, of hiding in there once when I was twelve and him beating my mother until she was unconscious. The flashes quickly changed to a scene from library two weeks ago, and Alec telling me that the new girl here was a cutter and someone would find her in a heap on the bathroom floor. He predicted the end of her life that day. I knew she made it through his predictions, I mean shit, she got the hell knocked out of her by Sheena in the yard earlier. But was that her, now? Was that her in there?

Shivering, I stepped closer to the door and pressed my hand to my chest. The girl sobbed and sobbed, blubbering things I couldn't understand. It didn't matter though. It still cut me open like a knife. I'd never heard crying like that before. Not even with my mother.

I sighed to myself. It could be anyone in there. Hell, it could be a therapist, or a counselor, or someone who could screw me over royally. But what if it _was _her? What if it was her, and she was actually going to kill herself? I saw the gloves that covered her skin. I'd seen other people with gloves. Alec was right. Everyone who wore gloves around here was a cutter. I didn't stop my parents struggle in enough time to save my mother from shooting my father. But could I save her, if that's what she was doing in there?

I mean, I didn't even know her. I shouldn't even be here.

What was I doing in the first place?

This wasn't like me. I could get into trouble.

The sobbing went on.

I pressed my head to the trim by the door, trying to figure out the best solution. Common sense would tell me to go get an adult, call for help. But what if I was over-reacting? What if she wasn't killing herself, what if she just wanted some privacy, so she could cry her anger away? Wasn't that what I was doing, walking the halls? Walking my thoughts away? I felt very confused.

But the crying continued.

Sliding down the wall, I stayed on the floor with my arms around my legs and listened to her pain. All her sorrow, all her fears, all her hurt. She cried and cried and cried, like she hadn't cried in years. It went on for what seemed like hours, but in reality, probably about twenty minutes.

...But then it got silent. Quick.

I steadied out of my aching somber and perched up, forcing my ears to focus.

There was no movement.

No skid of her shoes on the tiles.

No whimpering.

No sobbing.

No sniffling.

Nothing.

Just emptiness.

Like the emptiness I heard after my mother did what she did. When one bullet took three lives.

Before I could think about my decision, I scampered to my feet and pushed open the door. Gasping, I rounded the corner, praying I wasn't too late. I skidded to a stop when I found the new girl balled up in the corner beneath the hand dryer, shivering, her face pressed into her knees. My eyes roamed around the tile, as quick as they could, looking for a sharp object, or something she could or did cut herself with. But all I saw was the gloves beside her.

I feared the worst, that she had already made her mark. My foot lifted toward her, but as quickly as I moved, her head snapped up. And she gasped.

Then it all went ...strange. Hazy.

The first thing I noticed wasn't the puffiness of her eyes. It wasn't the narrow cut on her lip, the gash on her left, flushed cheek, or the bruise beneath the left side of her jaw. It wasn't the tears beneath her lashes or her messed up long hair, or even her unmarked wrists.

I noticed caramel. Or honey. Or caramel mixed with honey...

My lips parted as our eyes studied each other. I could not move. I'd never seen eyes like that before. I'd never seen eyes that rich, that glowing... that beautiful.

Because I'm a dumbass, I didn't speak up. All I could do was kick myself mentally for not looking at the girl sooner. It was no wonder that Sheena got upset over Aaron.

The girl stood swiftly, grabbed her gloves, wiped her eyes, and sniffled to herself. Her face feared the worse, that she'd been caught releasing her anger. She was afraid I'd make fun of her or something, like all the other kids would. I saw it all over her expression.

But I wasn't them. And she wasn't trying to kill herself. She wasn't cutting. She didn't even have anything to cut with, and from the four months here, I sadly knew that cutter's were always prepared.

Her face grew more fearful.

I needed to back away. I couldn't close my mouth, but I knew I had to get out of there. Before I could say something stupid, I twisted around the corner, and bailed out of the restroom. I didn't bother to wait, to see if she'd head back to her room where she belonged.

My only concern was giving her the privacy she so desperately craved.

The privacy she deserved.

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than E/B getting closer.**


	6. CH 5: Lost Poetry, Forgotten Rain

"_Fate has the power to connect the seemingly unconnected_."  
~ Unknown

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Five : Lost Poetry, Forgotten Rain.  
**Edward and Bella struggle to speak about their pasts with anyone who asks.  
But somehow, it's different when they get to know one each other.  
******* ****PLEASE NOTE**: Important Announcement regarding the upcoming TL : TNF (the sequel to _The Ex Factor_) at bottom of chapter. *****

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/facebookers/lexiconers**.... Thank you for all the birthday wishes sent in reviews & pms. Thank you for your patience. I'm happy you're enjoying the story enough to wait.  
-- To **my beta Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... you are my master and I am your slave. ;) You know how good you are.  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**"When your love has gone, and you try to hold on,  
You are there when she cries, you can't sleep in the night.  
When there's rain at your door... And the pain, she cries more...  
Oh her eyes are the sea you're in, and her face calls for help,  
But you know that you're leaving' with the love that you dealt.  
Then there's rain at your door... In the pain, she cries more."  
~ The Aeroplanes, "Rain At Your Door"  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Five : Lost Poetry, Forgotten Rain**

**BellaPOV **

"Bella... are you all right?"

With a defeated sigh, I glared out the window and watched the heavy clouds roil over the building. Inside, it was suffocating. The weather outside didn't make it any easier to breathe.

"...Bella?"

Today wasn't a good day.

My eyes hurt.

My limbs were sore and stiff.

And my face was still red and splotchy from the night before.

The last thing I wanted to do was sit here and answer a thousand questions about my mom, especially from someone I didn't know.

"You know that you are safe here, right?" the counselor asked, waving her hand to indicate her office. "This is a safe place. This isn't a Hollywood interview. Nothing you say here will be leaked, okay?"

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to yell. In the past two weeks, I'd been in nine fights. _Nine_. Before all of this happened, before my life became so completely screwed up, I hadn't been in a single fight. Never had anyone hate me. But here... no one seemed to like me. It took only one day before someone recognized me from an old magazine she had with my mom on the cover. From then on, everyone hated me, especially the girls. They called me rich girl, albino, cocktease. They made fun of me, how I spoke and dressed, how I ended up here, instead of _back at my mansion_. They stole my food and school books. Half the things I brought with me, which wasn't much to begin with, were missing from the room I was forced to share.

Every day, I found more and more of myself being washed away, like footprints in the sand. I'd look in the mirror, and I wouldn't see myself. Only faint traces of who I used to be, back when my mother was alive. Back when I was enough to keep her alive.

"Bella, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking. Don't hold back."

My eyes focused on her soft face. She had nice skin, dark eyes, and brown hair pulled up with a pen. She looked concerned. .I debated whether to trust her.

"I promise," she said with what appeared to be a genuine smile, "it'll make the time pass quicker if you talk about it. Come on."

I shrugged nonchalantly, peeling my eyes from her face. "I'm thinking that I hate it here."

"Good," she exhaled, squeezing another pen in her hand, "that's a start. Why do you hate it here?"

I shrugged, staring at my hands in my lap. "It's not my house."

"And? What else?"

"And..." I shrugged, swallowing hard. "My mom isn't here."

"I bet you miss your mother very much."

With a slight nod, I watched my tears splash on my pants. "Yeah."

"Were you very close with her?"

I nodded again and closed my eyes. "She... she was my best friend. My everything. I... feel so lost without her. I just... I can't... I don't understand what happened to her."

"Death is something that is nearly impossible to comprehend, Bella. It's the greatest mystery. No one can say why it happened, why someone chose to go the way they did, if it was their choice at all." She pressed her lips together, writing down a few words on her yellow notepad. "Is that your biggest thought? Wondering if... it was her choice?"

I shrugged, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "They say it was most likely accidental. That's the way they ruled it. But..." My words trailed off as the questions in my head swirled.

She waited a moment, and when I didn't continue, she filled in the words for me, as a statement rather than a question. "You're not so sure yourself."

"Yeah."

She scribbled again. "Bella," she began softly, trying to ease the hurt of the coming question. "Would you classify your home with your mother as a _happy home_?"

"I thought it was."

"There were no signs that-"

"No," I cut her off. "She was going through something hard but... there were no warning signs. Nothing unusual for my mom."

"What was she going through that was hard for her, Bella?"

My body ached and I wrapped my arms around my chest, once again holding myself together. I begged silently for my insides not to fall out. Not in front of anyone.

Minutes passed silently.

"Bella?" she pressed.

"Can we stop talking now?" I asked, my voice barely recognizable. "I don't want to... I can't. No more."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded quickly, watching her face turn to disappointment as she scribbled notes in silence. The clock to my left seemed to move slower and slower with each passing minute. I closed my eyes and struggled to take deep breaths, forcing my mind away from the flashbacks of my mother's laughter turned to her blue face, of her beautiful smile turned to cold lips. Happy, sad, life, ending. That's all I saw now. None of it made sense. Her death didn't make sense. That was for sure. But, since it happened, her life didn't make much sense to me when I thought about it either. Was she truly happy during those times I _thought_ she was? A few months before, I would have said absolutely yes. But, now, I could never, would never, know. She wasn't there to ask.

As soon as our hour was up, I booked out of there and ran smack into a body. I shut my eyes and prayed with all my might that it wasn't Sheena and her pack of friends, wanting to jump me again. But opening them, I saw it was worse. It was Aaron, her pimple-faced boyfriend. He asked me if I was okay, but I shivered away from him and ran in the opposite direction, hoping that Sheena didn't see that interaction. The last thing I needed was another reason to hate it here.

As if I didn't have enough as it was.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

Chewing my bottom lip, I took a deep breath, and began writing my mom an actual letter. I told her that I hoped she was okay, that I wished things hadn't happened the way they had. That wished I could have done something or said something, anything, to get a different result. I told her the truth, that it hurt me when she said she did it all for me, that she cared. I was honest about some things, like my pent-up feelings and my frustrations. I never wrote anything down like I wanted to, of course, because I wasn't going to yell at my mother through pen and paper. I tried to make it simple enough, so she could feel like someone cared about her but still knew where I stood on things.

"Yo, Copperhead."

Go figure. Huffing, I did a neck roll and then glared behind me, to find Alec with his hands in his pockets, grinning like he had a big secret to share. "Go away, Alec."

"Yo man," he said, sitting beside me without an invitation, staring me down, "why ain't we friends?"

"Because you're a heartless bastard," I quipped.

He scoffed. "You know what? That hurts my feelings."

I shrugged nonchalantly. I could care less about his feelings. Fucker was a douche.

"Yo, man, I think we should be friends, Copperhead. So, why don't you gimme your lighter, and we can talk about... I dunno... some stuff?"

Alec pissed me off so easily. I squeezed my pen and tried to focus on my letter, instead of his annoying presence, but didn't have much luck in doing so. With all the deadly glares I sent to him on a daily basis, I wished he could catch the hint. I didn't know what he was trying to pull, but I highly doubted my friendship was what he was really after. In fact, I knew it wasn't.

"Alec, do yourself a favor and le-"

"Hey Edward," Angela cut me off as she sat across the table from me. She gave me a warning look, begging me not to fight with Alec. She knew I was on strike two as it was.

I shifted my attention from Alec and opened my mouth to ask how she was doing. Then I felt the letter I was writing ripped out from beneath my hands. Alec quickly pushed from his chair, holding it hostage. I shot out of my seat and he ran away, laughing. "Gimme your lighter, bro, and I swear I'll give it back."

"No. You're going to give it to me, _now_," I sneered, walking toward him as Felix, Andrew, and a few other kids rushed between us, expecting a brawl. They were going to get one if he didn't do as I asked.

Alec shook his head and stood on a chair, then climbed on top of the desk. He un-crinkled my letter with his grimy fingers and scanned it briefly, his lips lifting in a disgusting smile. I tried to push past Felix, but he shoved me back into the desk behind me. Of all the days, it had to be Saturday, when we weren't being monitored into the library.

"..._'Sometimes I feel like you say these things to justify your actions," _Alec began, reading a paragraph on the paper. _ "But you don't really mean them. You never told me you loved me, you never hugged me, bought me school clothes, cooked dinner, or any of the things that mothers do, so how can you honestly call yourself my mother_?" Alec paused and shook his head, while a few of the kids around us laughed. "Oh Copperhead," he continued, "this is really heart-breaking."

"Give me the fucking letter," I snarled, causing more laughter. I glared at everyone who made fun of me. Mentally, I took their names and shoved them into my archive for later.

"_But I want you to know that I am trying to find it in myself to forgive you'," _he continued to quote, boiling my blood further,_ "'because how else can I adapt, if I harbor more ill-will towards you? Where will that get me? What will it change? Absolutely nothing, because you did what you did and I need to realize I cannot change that. I'm trying to believe this wasn't my fault, but I still have doubts_.'" Alec chuckled, glaring at me. "I told you guys his mom blew his dad's head off." He threw my hideous reality out for everyone to see like it was no more than a picture in a book. "Copperhead, this is some serious shit here. Want me to go on?" He grinned down at me, standing all high and proud on that wooden table.

That was the last fringed wire of my short fuse. I took a quick glance at the doors to make sure no one was telling anyone. Then I charged him. It only took seconds to break through the crowd and push past Felix.

I grabbed Alec's ankles, yanking as hard as I could, and forced him to crash on his back, smacking his head against the wood of the table. Then I pulled him to the floor and jumped on his stomach as he cradled his head and aimed angry blows at his ribs while he tried to kick me away. He dropped the letter and I picked it up before anyone else could snatch it. But before I could stand up and walk away, I was ripped off of him by Larry, one of the therapists.

"Edward, Edward, no!" Larry shouted, wrapping his arms around me while a few of the ladies picked Alec up off the floor. "Come on," he said, lifting me and then pushing me toward the double doors, "in my office! _NOW_!"

The doors pushed open as kids cheered and booed me. Larry kept his hand on my shoulder so I couldn't get away. As if I had anywhere else I could go. If there were such a place, I would have been long gone. He huffed as Mrs. Johnson, the lady at the main door, asked what happened. "I've got it under control," he reassured her. "Don't worry about him. Alec's headed toward the nurse's office. He may have a concussion_."_

_Good, _I thought to myself._ I hope he does._

As we moved, I noticed the new girl being led past me with the new therapist. She glanced up at me, and with the few seconds I had to look at her, I caught the same solemn expression she carried last night. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks flushed, and her hair was ruffled like she'd run her fingers through it a thousand times. She appeared utterly exhausted. I had no doubt that she was getting just about as much sleep as I was. Poor girl.

Larry pushed me into his office and shut the door, motioning for me to sit as he took his own seat behind the desk. "Edward, please explain to me why you had to get into another fight? Don't you know you're on thin ice? You cannot afford to keep making mistakes like this!"

"He took my letter," I answered softly, my legs bouncing restlessly.

"So that gave you a reason to bust his head open?"

"No. Reading my letter out loud was what gave me the reason."

"Why, why, _why _couldn't you walk away? Isn't that what I've been trying to get through to you? Walking away? Being the better man?"

I shook my head. Larry lived in his happy world where that was an option. I didn't. I lived in the real world, where giving an inch got your ass handed to you regularly. "You have no idea how those guys are going to treat me now, how they'll use that against me. It's just more dirt. He read to them about my mother, what she did. I was fucked way before I yanked him off that desk."

"Edward, language, please." He sighed, trying to reason with me and my anger at the moment. "Listen. If the kids are harassing you like that, you need to get an adult. I've told you countless times that you could come to me. Why don't you trust me when I say that?"

"I don't trust anyone," I said bitterly.

Larry took a long, deep breath, then relaxed into the chair. "Edward," he said calmly, "I know you're a good kid. Your record was almost spotless before you came here, with that single exception of stealing at the Quickie Mart down on Fifth-"

"I stole because there were no groceries in my house and I was going to pass out if I didn't eat," I cut him off, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. "It'd almost been four days."

He nodded. "I know that. With that exception, though, you have a clean record. Look. I'm doing everything in my power to get you into a good home, and I think we have a potential foster home lined up for you. In as little as a week or two, you can be away from here, and onto something better. But you can not keep getting into fights like this. Each time you do, your chances for a way out seriously fade."

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "With all due respect, Larry, Alec had it coming to him. I don't go out of my way to piss him off, like he does me and everybody else here. Maybe you should put him in isolation, save us all the busted knuckles."

Larry sighed. "Alec... has a very extensive and troubled past, and we're working with him on it. I'll discuss your opinion of separation with his counselors and see what we can do. But, in the mean time, you _have _to learn how to control your temper. I like you, I think you have a lot of potential, and I want you to make what you can out of life. I want you to get better, to heal, to prosper. But you _have _to work with me here, alright? Because, I am going to be honest with you, Edward. If it's not Alec, it's going to be another kid, and then another. There are too many kids here with a lot of personal baggage, and a need to make people hurt the way they do. And, there aren't enough qualified adults to protect the harmless from the harmful. So please. Do your part, do you understand?"

I frowned and gave a nod.

"Thank you. Now, to cut you a break because I know that reading your letter hurt your feelings, I'm not going to write today's incident in your file. But don't make this a habit. I cannot help you if you don't want to help yourself."

_No one can help me, Larry. _

"Now," he continued. "I want you to use my office, rewrite your letter here in privacy, and by the time you're finished, it should be lunch. I'll be right outside. Holler if you need me." He stood up and walked toward the door, motioning for me to use his desk. "Oh, and Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't take my trust for granted." He gave a warning wink, before leaving me to myself.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

My heart galloped and stalled, over and over again, as I made my way through the cafeteria trying to find a seat. With my tray gripped so tightly in my hands that my knuckles were ghostly white, I stepped carefully over the outstreched legs of the jerks who liked to trip people when they walked. I tried to ignore Sheena and her gang of friends calling me the same exhausted names, and shuddered when I passed a guy named Thomas who stared relentlessly and watched my every move. I prayed that I didn't fall and embarrass myself like I did the day before. I hadn't lived that down yet.

I didn't know if I was being paranoid or not, but it felt as if every eye was on me. I'd been here over two weeks but was still known as the new albino rich girl. I had a feeling that would never change. But not as many of the girls spat at me, unless Sheena did it first. So that was something, at least.

"You can sit here if you want," the guy with the chipped front tooth said as he nodded his head at the empty seat beside him. All of his friends around the table snickered, while one playfully threw her napkin at him.

I could tell he wasn't a nice guy, so I provided him a slight smile and said, "Th-that's okay."

His friends laughter grew louder as I walked past, before their whispering presumed "See? I told you she had a stutter. The girl's retarded."

I closed my eyes, fought back tears, and made my way to an empty table in the far corner by the counter. _I only stutter when I get nervous or flustered_, I wanted to explain to them. But there wasn't a point, and I knew it.

Lunch was... well... the saddest excuse for food I'd ever seen. Presumably, it could be a meatloaf... or steak. I wasn't sure. Add a glob of peas, instant mashed potatoes, and a biscuit, and they called it a meal. But with all of the kids stealing food, I knew I had to scarf it down or I'd be sorry. I hated going hungry. My head felt submerged under water when I didn't eat, and it was not a feeling I looked forward to.

Half way through, during one of the few times I looked up from my tray, I noticed the boy who found me in the bathroom the night before take his seat a few tables down from me. A girl that always tried to talk to me, and seemed kind of sweet sat beside him a few moments later, adjusting her glasses and smiling around the room. I watched as some tall guy reached over and pulled her biscuit from her tray. She tried to yelp at him but the guy shoved it in his mouth and walked off, high-fiving his friends. The boy beside her whispered something under his breath as he eyed the guy down, then plucked the biscuit from his tray and sat it on hers. She tried to decline and put it back but he shook his head, and eventually won the argument.

I bit my lip as my heart sped a little witnessing that small, random act of kindness. I didn't like my heart awakening and fought to calm it. But it fluttered momentarily anyway. The boy appeared mysterious, and his eyes had a longing anger in them. But, he really seemed kind. It was obvious that she wasn't his blood sister. Their coloring wasn't the same. I wondered if she was his girlfriend, but the more and more I studied their actions, the space between them, the lack of eye contact, I figured she wasn't. They didn't act like they were together, like some of the other kids did. They were close though. My heart tugged and I felt sad again, wishing I had a friend I could talk to. It made me miss my friends back home. Made me wonder what they were doing. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, wishing my thoughts away. There was nothing I could do. They hadn't written me back yet.

When I tried to refocus on my food, my eyes stopped mid-way, because the boy caught my eye. He was staring at me. And not even trying to hide it.

My breath hitched and my brain signaled that I should look away and ignore him, pretend I didn't see him. But I couldn't even blink. I felt frozen under his speculative eyes, under his parted lips, bronzed hair, and glowing green eyes. I couldn't put down my fork. My brain sped to a mile a minute, telling me that my heart was moving again, that it was all hurting, to look away, look away, look away. I begged for someone or something to catch his attention, break me free from him. But nothing happened, and he didn't.

And I couldn't either.

His brows furrowed as he tilted his head. My body felt as if it was being sucked off my chair, across the room, and into his eyes. But he didn't make me feel uncomfortable, like he was picking me apart, like the other kids here. Instead, it was as if he was trying to _memorize _me, like he was finding my hidden details to _learn _about me. Why, I wasn't sure. Maybe it was sheer boredom. But somehow, with him, I doubted it.

It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen or felt in my life.

Who _was _this guy? Why couldn't I move? And, why did I feel so safe under his gaze, but so scared under the scrutiny of everyone else's? What made him different? I didn't know him from Adam.

None of it made any damn sense at all.

The table I sat at began to shake, and I was broken free of the boy's eyes. I turned my attention to my right, to find a boy with semi-spiked blonde hair and sharp features hovering over me. "Hi," he said, his voice low and... preppy. "Are you Isabella?"

I cringed, staring at him cluelessly. "It's _Bella_. Not... Isabella."

"I'm Demetri. Is this seat taken?"

I took a quick glance around the room, to see if Sheena and her friends put him up to it. They weren't paying any attention to me. "Depends on what you want," I finally answered, shrugging my shoulders.

"Company," he grinned simply. "It appears that...," he paused to take a breath and shrug, "..you could use the same."

"I don't need any company," I lied, glancing back at the boy across the cafeteria, who was still looking at me. I adjusted in the seat.

"Everyone needs company. Or else they turn out like Nancy over there in the corner, talking angrily at her food tray and praying at night to Satan."

"She does?"

"Take a look at her."

I bit my lip and peered over my shoulder at a girl in the back right corner, with messy, jet black hair, angry eye shadow smeared behind her lashes, and painted on blood red lips, which moved quickly as she spoke into her meal.

"See what I mean?" he grinned down at me. "So again... is this seat taken?"

I glared into his eyes, expecting him to cower away. He didn't. With a defeated sigh, I replied, "I guess not."

Demetri grinned and gave a nod before taking the seat, half of his head blocking my vision of the mysterious boy who was _still _looking at me. But I could still partly see him... and somehow, the warmth in my body remained because of that.

I didn't know what to think of that. Or him.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

The day went on like the blur of a cloudless sky. Seemingly endless. Exhausting.

I watched my shoes move forward then fall back as I made my way from the cafeteria. My eyes were half-lidded from lack of sleep. But because I couldn't remember what it was like to see the world with wide eyes, I didn't miss the feeling of normalcy. It's just how it was. How I was.

The shy kid who'd taken a pair of nail clippers to his wrists more times than I could count gave me a nod as I passed him. He was my first roommate. His name was John and he wouldn't talk to anyone, but never appeared to want to harm anyone but himself. I watched him scribble on the mattress he lay on, watched his eyes fog up and his nose run. He'd turn and face me on the nights he scraped the sharp end of the clippers up and down his veins, opening up old scars from his drunken father. I couldn't understand why he wanted them to keep reappearing, wanted to bear that reminder of the man who launched him out of a window and down steps just because he didn't mow the lawn that day. But for some reason, he did.

Here, we get a lot more liberties than I usually admit. With either the shortage of adults or the high number of new arrivals, I found myself constantly unmonitored. I rediscovered the freedom of roaming the halls, of exploring the basement where the laundry was done, of going out in the yard for long sessions. I found different ways to escape if I wanted to; latches on windows, busted locks on back doors, ways to silence shattered glass. But the more and more I thought about how rough it could get if I were to run, joining the ranks of homeless teenagers, the more I realized that the place was... okay. Not livable for long. No, I'd rather chance it if that were the case. But for now, it worked.

It was dryer than the street, at least.

Today was the last of the third week of the month. I called it an _Auction Call_, as kids would go to the back room overlooking the yard, sit at long tables, and meet potential foster parents. The first time I went through it, I was frightened, trying to figure out where I'd be going. But as time went by, I realized I should loosen up and say very little because, in the end, I was still there. Someone else got picked. Someone younger, wiser, or hell, someone who scammed their way into the homes. Whatever the case, it felt pointless, but they still made us show.

I sat through three rounds of potential caretakers. The first couple was extremely religious, with a farm house and a lot of room. They lost a child a few years back, innocent victim hit head on by a drunken semi driver. I knew I wasn't their type right from the start. It didn't matter what my file said, how the group home tried to sell me, or why they thought they'd want to see me. Their son was an honor roll student, played sports, stayed out of trouble. They'd never say it out loud, but they were looking for someone to fill his shoes and the empty place in their hearts. I didn't have the energy it'd take to keep up that charade. And it'd never seem fair to them.

The second was a single woman, attractive, with ivory skin and long brown hair. She eyed me a certain way, leaned in toward the table. I'd seen her kind before, and I could tell immediately that she wasn't looking for a child to take care of. She had ulterior motives, ones that I couldn't fulfill, unless a lawsuit was my ultimate goal. Why these women came to places like this, I'd never understand. She was pretty. It wouldn't be hard to pick up a man at a bar...

Unless she wanted a boy. Then it all made sense.

The final sitting was with a man with brown skin, long black hair, a cowboy hat, and a wheelchair. He was kind and told me that he had two other boys at the house that he was caring for around my age, as well as a care-taker who visited often and helped him out. He told me that I would have my own bed and bath, transportation whenever I needed it, explained how great the schools were in his area. He was a music teacher and his care-taker an artist. He sold himself well, and for a moment, I felt myself growing excited. "My boys would have loved to join me but there was a dirt-bike contest they were participating in," he chuckled, folding his hands on the table. "Boys and their toys."

I grinned politely at him and nodded my head. I'd never seen a dirt-bike in real life before. Always wanted to though.

"Well," Miss Johnson, my latest caseworker, said as she stood from the table, "why don't we give Edward some time to think this over, and we can arrange another meeting for you two next week to discuss options?"

Billy Black looked over to me, giving me the opportunity to answer. None of the other potential parents did that. I was impressed. "Sounds good," I replied, reaching out my hand to him.

He shook it proudly and tilted his cowboy hat, before Miss Johnson pushed him away. I allowed a brief moment to stare out at all the other meetings, at the new kids with hope in their eyes. I prayed the ones that were to be taken out didn't lose that. All too quickly, they would if later returned here.

_Returned_. Like clothes in a department store, complete with the common excuse of _' it just didn't fit like I thought it would' _. It's why I couldn't understand some foster homes. Sounds great on paper, sure. I just wished those who returned their items could realize that bringing home a broken child didn't mean they're always fixable. Most are simply broken down, worn out machines. They should be sold as-is.

~*~

I woke up early the following morning, restless and unsatisfied. Glancing at my watch, I gave a heavy sigh. Two hours of sleep, total. Not bad. Better than the day before.

After handling my morning business, I drug my feet into the hallway, where all the other kids gathered noisily. The lady who held the list and called out our chores for the week assigned me laundry duty in the basement, with Demetri. He gave me a nod once he found out I'd be his partner, and I sent one back in return. We weren't extremely close, but from what I knew, he was decent. Snobby, came from money, but decent.

After we gathered all the baskets and made our way down the steps, he dropped the one he held by his feet and we walked out the back door, where we couldn't be seen. He handed me a cigarette, and I passed him my lighter. No one else knew about our arrangement, and that was the way we liked it. "So," he blew the smoke from his nose and passed my lighter back, "how have you been holding up?"

I flicked the ashes into the browning grass. "I'd kill for a pool right now."

"You should sneak out to the surf. JD and I are planning a field trip next week if you want to come."

"Depends. I think I'm gonna get placed."

"Oh yeah?" he questioned. "That's awesome. Where?"

"Port Angeles. Been there?"

"No. Mostly an Indian reservation. But you'll have a beach there, so that's easy."

"Yeah. I'm not crossing my fingers though. You know how it works."

"Sadly, I do..." He pondered for a moment, after taking a long drag. "Though, I have to say, things have been looking up around here lately. I'm not necessarily shopping for a placement."

"Why's that?"

"You know that girl that arrived a few weeks ago? Actress mom. Really pale. Long hair. Pretty lips."

My stomach tightened in a weird way, and I shrugged my shoulders carelessly. "There's so many arrivals-"

"No, no, trust me. This girl is different. She seems..." He held his hands out in front of him, his palms emphasizing breasts, "...sweet." He grinned like I should appreciate the joke.

I let out a small, uncomfortable laugh, and shook my head before swallowing hard. I felt off suddenly. I didn't know why. "What is her name?"

"Isabella Harris."

"Harris?" I thought for a moment. "Don't remember seeing a Harris on the addition list."

"I think she changed her last name or some shit. Anyway. She's hot. You should check her out."

I sighed. "Wouldn't be a point if I got placed."

"True," he said, stomping on the cigarette. "Besides," he continued with that slick smile. "I'll be keeping her busy."

I scoffed and made my way back into the laundry room, hoping we had enough to keep us busy until lunch. I didn't want to go upstairs and deal with people. "Don't jade her, Demetri," I replied, uneasy. "Whoever the girl is, if she's here, the last thing she needs is another excuse to want to fall off the face of the earth."

"Don't worry," he grinned, shoving the soiled clothes into the machine. "I'll be on my best behavior."

I glared at him as he worked, my chest tightening further. I didn't believe him for a second and I barely knew him. "I think that's a good idea."

* * *

**BellaPOV**

_Dancing feet moved upon the coals  
Of a flameless reality._

_Shattered soul wept at the mention of  
A recovered puzzle piece,  
That could make it whole._

_How long might I survive in this  
Despondent trance-like state?  
Turning around in circles,  
Lacking all emotion,_

_So as to wear my smile, a mask,  
My immeasurable pain._

My mom loved poetry. She used to recite it, even in her sleep. Her beautiful lips curving sentences into life. I could watch her for hours.

She loved the new artists, their undiscovered words. She'd spend hours in a public library, chin high in books, smile upon her face. "Listen to me, my darling Isabella. Bitter women who've lost all faith read trashy novels," she explained one day as she rounded her shoulders, tall and proud, manicured fingernails wrapped around the spine of a book. "Other women, those with substance, find their true romance in poetry. Nothing rings more honest than a hopeful man forgotten, with a heartfelt lyric and no tune."

I sighed, pulling myself out of my daze, and closed my eyes. It was wrong to think of her.

"Yo, Albino girl," one of Sheena's friends, the heavy one with foul breath, shouted as I sprayed Windex on a window. "You got a phone call."

I made sure to not look at her as she stood between me and the rest of the room. Drew in some air, stared down at her shoes. "Excuse me."

She chuckled, unmoving. I had to push past her. Then she called me a bitch, again.

With a heavy sigh, I picked up the receiver and plopped on the desk beside it, "Hello?"

"Bella?"

My heart jumped in my throat and I shot out of the chair, covering my chest. "Tom?"

"Hey, sweetheart," his soothing voice replied. "How you been, kiddo?"

"Oh Tom," I began, as my throat tightened and my eyes flooded with tears. "It's so awful here. I hate it! I hate it so much and everything's all wrong. Where are you?"

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he answered. "I'm in New York City right now, sweetheart. Major scandal I'm dealing with. I'm up to my ears in paperwork"

"Will you be coming back soon?"

"I'm not certain at the moment. But listen-"

"No, Tom, you _have _to come back," I cried. "I know you and my mom didn't work out. But it wasn't just my mom involved, remember? And I swear, if you come and get me, I could live with you and I won't be any trouble and I can stay out of your way. I just really need someone I know and trust around me. I feel like I'm falling apart." I covered the mouth piece with my hand as my sobs became uncontrollable. I didn't want him to hear how defeated I was.

It was bad enough that the kids passing in the hallway were making fun of me, though I'd seen a few of them crying when they had phone calls too. Hypocrites.

"Bella? Bella are you still there?"

"Yeah," I choked out, wiping my face.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No. I'm sorry. Can you repeat it again?"

"I said there are a lot of things that will have to occur, if I were to try and take you in. Especially with my career and constant traveling. You'll need something more grounded. It's not that simple and it will take time. But I promise you that I will look into it as soon as I can. I can imagine how hard it is for you to be in there, and I promise I've already contacted some people. I want you with me, too."

I pressed my head onto the cool top of the desk and pushed my free hand into my chest. "Tom..." I whispered, sniffling, "I know that it's a lot to deal with and negotiate but... you're the only father figure I've had, and I need you. You're my only family."

He sighed heavily. "I promise, I am trying. But I need you to hang tough, stay strong. Be the opinionated, spunky girl we all know and love."

"It's so hard. Nothing makes sense. I keep having nightmares. I get harassed here. I have no friends. Janey hasn't written me back, not even once. Neither has Eric or Tyler. I don't even know if they're receiving my letters, or what's going on."

"I'm sure it's nothing. Sometimes life gets in the way, baby. Your friends love you."

"I just need _someone_, Tom. I'm begging you. Please, help me."

"I'm trying. Keep your chin up and I'll call you next week, after I figure some things out, okay? Can you do that for me Bella?"

"Yeah," I hiccoughed. "I can try to do that."

"Good girl. I'm sending you a care package. It should get there next week. Alright?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Okay. Bella?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you sweetheart."

I shut my eyes, clutching my frame to hold myself together. "I love you too, Tom."

As the call disconnected and the annoying dial tone returned, I sat the phone down on the desk and took in a few heavy gulps of air. _Stay strong, Bella. Stay strong, stay strong. Tom's going to figure this out. He'll come and pick you up, but you have to do as he says. You have _to-

"Yo, rich girl, I need to use the phone."

I looked up through damp lashes at an impatient boy I didn't know, tapping his foot and crossing his arms.

"Like _today_?" he scoffed, glaring at me.

I stood up and dusted off my pants, while he jerked the phone of the desk, almost hitting me in the process.

"God, you deaf?" he shouted, before pushing me out of the way.

I exhaled slowly and made my way back to the library to finish my Windexing. _Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong_... I repeated it like a battle chant.

A few minutes later, staring through the murky window I was about to wipe clean, something occurred to me.

Tom never mentioned my mom.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

After chores and lunch were complete, we wondered back outside, relieved that the clouds broke for a few hours. The sun felt nice, shining down and coloring our skin yellow. As I took my seat, pulled out my things, and began to focus, I breathed in the warmth, absorbing it. Sunny days were rare. I gathered my happiness where I could.

Angela ran toward me then, smile remaining on her pleasant face. "Hey Edward," she panted heavily. "What are you up to?"

I lifted my notebook, which I'd turned into a new journal. I didn't dare tape it beneath my mattress. It stayed with me, always. "Writing."

"Well, put it down," she demanded. "We need another for three-on-three. Want to play?"

I glanced over at the single boy and three girls staring back at us, expectantly. The Scott boy was seriously outnumbered. He looked quite frightened of the estrogen surrounding him. "I don't really feel lik-"

"Oh come on! You'll be playing against girls," she insisted. "It's easy."

I looked into her hopeful eyes and frowned, hating to disappoint her. "I'm sorry. I really don't feel like playing."

"You never do," she whined. "_Please_?"

I shook my head.

Defeated, she left to question others around me, and I refocused on my writing.

_The dreams of my past remind me of a burnt-down city_, I began, licking my lips. _Smoky, haunting, and pitch black. I can hear my mother's calling, relentless. "No Edward!" she cried, her voice echoing and blind. "Look away! Don't watch!" But it was too late. I heard his hand make contact with her jaw. Listened to a whimpering heart as her body crawled across the floor, fingernails leaving scars on the yellow and white dandelions gracing the worn tile. "Stop!" she'd beg as he kicked her ribs and spat on her red hair. _

_Then the dream opened up, bright and eerie. There I was, just as I remembered, sitting in the middle of the room. A toddler at the time, fingers clutching my bear, eyes staring at the two dancing figures in horror. My words deserted me. I couldn't cry for help. I had nothing to protect her with. _

_Her face turned purple as he choked her until he was satisfied, then he left her crumpled, whimpering body where it lay, grabbed a beer, and stormed outside. _

_It had to be an hour before she woke up. Busted lips still bleeding. Fractured mirrors lay around her, shards in her hair and clothes. _

_She shook out her hair, crawled over to me, sniffled, and wiped beneath her broken, bloody nose. "It's okay, Edward," she said with a shaky, unsure voice. "...It's okay now."_

My eye caught the moving frame of the new girl, her covered hands in jean pockets. She did her best to ignore the cat calls and whispers of the jealous girls as she kept her head down and turned in my direction. She bit her lip and looked at me, studying my eyes solemnly. Questioningly.

Her left foot hitched, mid-stride, and she paused. I stayed where I was, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Wishing I could read her mind. Wondering why I wanted to

"...Um..." she said, pulling her right hand from her pocket. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt and looked as if she wasn't breathing at all. "I-"

"Bella!" Demetri called, running over to her. She jumped as he skidded to a stop, nearly cowering away. Just like my mom used to. Instinctively, I shot off the bench with angry eyes, glaring from him to her. Demetri did nothing wrong and I knew it, but I couldn't help my reaction. I didn't like to see a woman cower away. Didn't like a man frightening her.

Her eyes widened as she gazed at me, trying to straighten herself again.

"Whoa," Demetri chuckled, his eyes puzzled as he took in my stance. "You okay, brother?"

With shaking limbs, I drew in a deep breath and sat back on the edge of my seat. I cleared my throat before I spoke, and made sure to sound convincing. "Yeah, sorry. You... uh... startled me."

"Damn. I guess I'm scaring everyone today," he chuckled, playfully nudging the girl with his elbow. She forced a smile and pulled the sleeves over her gloved arms.

"Bella, would you care to sit with me?"

She shuffled from foot to foot, expression uncertain.

His eyes begged her. He used his grin as a lucky charm.

"Sure," she whispered eventually, with a voice that was low and frightened. She didn't look certain of her decision at all.

I watched as they walked away, her following slowly. They sat at the bench across from mine, him facing my direction, her looking away. She positioned herself to hang half off the seat, ready to bail at any second. As if she were preparing for an attack. An explosion. A war of some sorts.

I could tell she didn't want to get close to anyone. Either that, or she didn't trust herself enough to allow anyone to get close to her.

I knew the feeling all too well. Both feelings.

When I couldn't write any longer, I pulled a book from my bag, hoping to focus on the words. _Take me away_, I wished into the paragraphs as I flipped the pages. I figured the importance of a fantasy meant more to me here than it could to anyone else in the world. While I struggled to get lost in the story about surviving on a deserted island, the character Dean scrounging for food, my thoughts returned to my father. I tried to think of a time when he was kind, when his eyes weren't so black. Only a one came to mind. The rare occasion that he'd been so drunk, he laughed into the air. But that was it.

So many times, so many cries, so many pleading moments of distress. It all amounted to my mother's capture. Like subways on a track, or tunnels winding in a circle, I played the events in my head. My life as a broken record. My life, as it was. I couldn't pull my mom out of the haze she was trapped inside of, couldn't pry the gun from her fingers. I begged and pleaded as the cops banged on the door. "Let me help you," I insisted, gripping her frozen, white fingers. "Let go of the gun! They're about to break in the door!"

Her eyes were open and wide, glistening white like moonlight. Her bruised lips parted, the purple marks beneath her chin. "They won't take me," she whispered as the banging continued down the hall. "It was self defense."

Growling, I shook her a few times, so hard I rattled the walls. Shook her until she woke up.

She released the gun into my hands.

Then the policemen burst into the room with flashlights and guns pointed in my direction.

~*~

All too soon, we were being called back inside The Volt. I quickly gathered my things, angry that time moved so quickly. Young bodies flew past, talking a mile a minute, their meaningless conversations bouncing in the wind. I did my best to ignore them as the darkening clouds began to hover above the yard again, trapping us once more inside of this prison.

"Um, ex-excuse me?" a low voice called. I wasn't sure it was directed toward me. Then a finger tapped my shoulder.

I whipped around in the chilling breeze, shocked that I had been touched, and found the girl that tried to approach me earlier. The same girl from the bathroom. The one with Demetri.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide again. She seemed so scared, on guard and alert. As if entire world was going to suck her up and bleed her dry.

Adjusting the bag on my right shoulder, I gazed down at her pale, flawless face. I tried to speak, to greet her or say _something_, but no words would come to mind. I was too lost inside her eyes. Just like in the restroom. In the cafeteria. Anytime I saw her.

In a shitty situation such as this place, I somehow became a ship without a rudder when I was around this girl. Stuck for eternity in a deep abyss of honey, caramel, and endless eyelashes.

"Um..." She drew in a breath and pulled something from her jacket pocket. "Here."

I watched her gloved hand, with the colored fabric cut to expose her fingers, shove a crumpled piece of paper into my stomach. The force nearly knocked the wind out me, bouncing me back. I caught the sheet before it fell to the ground, and an electric shock surged inside of me -- the first jolt in months -- as my fingers graced hers. She yanked her hand back just as quickly, obviously feeling the same current.

My heart thumped hard in my chest, my lips parting slightly.

Hers lips mirrored my own.

In the middle of the moving crowd, with the new rain of the night drizzling down, we both stood perfectly still. Thunder roared its threats in the sky, cursing at us.

People shoved past us, muttering beneath their breath, fighting to get inside still dry. I wanted to glare at each motherfucker who hit her body with their own. She was too tiny, too defenseless, it seemed. But I just couldn't _move_.

There was something about this girl. Something that pulled me into Wonderland, that kept me inside of the dark rabbit hole.

She ran her trembling fingers nervously through her hair, glancing from the note to me then back again. Her eyes questioned, wondering why I wouldn't open it. The only thing I could focus on was her hands, and all the breath pulled from my body. Her fingers were so _pale_. Beautiful, but pale. Again, she ran them through the hair above her forehead, shaking the brown locks that decorated her features.

I noticed as she glanced one last time, from the note, then up into my eyes. Watched a mask of hurt cover over with anger. I wondered at it for just a second, trying to figure her thoughts. Her pain. Her past.

With a riveting sob, she dropped her eyes to the ground and broke the trance I was trapped inside. Then she shoved past and left me where I stood, motionless and stricken.

~*~

Whatever was written on the piece of paper, if anything at all, put me in a state of unease for the rest of the day. I knew I had to open it soon -- it could be important -- but something cautioned me. It was like climbing out of a steamy shower and staring into a fogged mirror. You knew you had to wipe the moisture away to see yourself again. But what if there was something scary behind you, like in those horror movies? What if she what she wrote was something angry, or hurtful, or terrifying? I didn't know why my thoughts streamed in that direction. She didn't know me at all, nor I to her. So how could she be mad or frightened of me? Why would she want to write me a letter in the first place?

This girl held so much mystery. I couldn't get a grip.

I waited until after ten, when most were asleep and everyone else calmed down. The storm had intensified greatly by then, rattling the cold windows and disturbing the restless. I shoved the note in my pocket and paced down the hall, around the corner, and into the nearest restroom. After making sure there was no one around, I climbed into a shower stall and turned the leaking faucet away so it wouldn't drip on my clothes. I sat on the bench after I closed the curtain, and scraped my teeth across my bottom lip.

The crumbled letter stared back at me. Her words, her secret. Whatever she couldn't say out loud.

As the lights above flashed on and off, the wind howling and echoing around the large, brick building, my fingers uncoiled the note without direction from my brain. I inhaled slowly and tried to focus on the sloppy hand-writing, the single paragraph.

The lights provided threatened to quit in protest of the storm, so I brought the letter closer to my face and tilted my head in attempt to read it. The thunder crashed on.

_I'm sorry this is written and not spoken, _she wrote_, but you're not the easiest to approach. I don't know what your place is here. I'm not sure if you're someone like me, or someone who works here. But whoever you are, I just wanted to say thank you for not reporting me after you saw me in the bathroom. I know it was after hours, and we were supposed to be asleep. But I needed an escape from everyone. I hope you can understand. I won't make it a habit though, I promise.  
~Bella._

I re-read the letter several times, absorbing each letter in every word. It wasn't what I thought it would be. But it wasn't any less important. I made sure to recognize that as I made my way back into the rec room, several minutes later.

There she sat, the odd ball in a crowded room. She was curled up on the blue couch, a shirt covering her knees as she cradled them to her chest. My breath faltered while lightning flashed through the high window, decorating her sad expression. She appeared to be watching the television, and anyone else who walked past her would think that's what she was doing.

But her lost eyes gave her away. And her thoughts were definitely somewhere else.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

I shivered as the thunder grew louder and I pressed my chin to the caps of my knees. I counted the seconds until I could see sunlight again.

The television flickered as the lightning soared around, threatening to cut the power. I prayed it wouldn't. Prayed with all my might.

_"...The whole air is conspiring  
and ravening thunder rumbles  
your image turns in my head  
obscure as dark, rolling clouds  
Lightning curls, flickers  
piercing  
Yes, I long for you with a heavy gasp."_

My mom's smile coursed through my thoughts, as she danced around the living room in white linens, reciting another poem. "Life is a lyric, my darling," she declared that night, twirling around effortlessly as I cowered on the couch, praying the rain would be over. "It's made to dance inside of."-

"Ahem."

A clearing throat jolted me back to the present, and I snapped my head around quickly finding the boy from earlier. The one I wrote the letter to.

My body began to unravel.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and ignored the guy with the chipped tooth beside me when he was asked to move. I stared up at him nervously, wondering if he read my letter, and why he stood in front of me. "Copperhead!" the boy shouted, throwing a hissy fit. "Move out of the way."

The boy cleared his throat as the storm blared on, momentarily adding golden highlights to his bronzed hair. "I'm not unapproachable," he stated simply with a voice that was raspy but sincere. He shrugged his shoulders. He was just as nervous as I was. That made it easier, somehow.

More of the kids started calling to him, begging him to get out of the way. He ignored them still. The boy rocked back on his heels, never moving his eyes from mine. "...I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier," he said, "but, uh, my name is Edward. What's yours?"

"Your name ain't Edward," the annoying boy scoffed, throwing a pillow at him. "You Copperhead."

Edward clenched his jaw as his fingers balled into fists. He tried to keep his anger at bay, to not go off on him. I couldn't blame him if he did. I didn't like my nickname and stereotypes either.

"Bella," I answered dryly, rubbing my throat.

"Nice to meet you."

With a nod, I gave a half-smile. The first honest one in weeks.

"Okay, okay! Jesus, you've met," someone said to my left. "Now get out of the fucking way!"

With a courage I hadn't felt in a long time, I pulled my shirt from around my knees and stood up, causing people to direct their screams at the both of us. "Do you, uhm, maybe, I don't know-"

"Wanna go somewhere and talk?" he cut me off, finishing the rest of my sentence.

"Yeah."

With a nod, he swiftly moved out of the way. "Okay," he said. "Come on."

Edward led me down countless hallways, past the land of the living, toward a black door at the far end of a darkened hallway. If he were anyone else, especially anyone in this building, I'd turn and run in the opposite direction. But there was something about this boy. Something that told me I was safe.

He jiggled the knob a few times, turned the it a certain way, then another, and eventually, he un-jammed it. Then he faced me. "Don't worry," he whispered as he pushed it open. "I'm not homicidal." His smile was crooked and partly sarcastic. Thunder crashed above us, lifting my feet from the ground. I shivered and took a deep breath, trying to calm my speeding heart. His eyes studied my own, questioning whether or not I'd go through the door. "I promise," he insisted, and I immediately believed him. But I held my breath as I passed through anyway.

As the door closed behind us, he grasped my shoulder, instantly providing warmth as that unfamiliar, intense current flew through my body once more. "Careful," he whispered quickly, before flicking on a light. "There's steps." I nodded, gaping down at the narrow wooden pathway. Then I turned back to him. He was so tall. And beautiful. And broken.

At least we had one thing in common.

"Where are we going?"

"The basement," he answered simply.

The windows shook as the wind screamed outside. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest. "And... what is in the basement, exactly?"

Edward smirked, the laugh lines decorating his flawless, charming face. "Privacy."

Once we made it down into the colder air, he led me around the large open room, passing by a long set of working washers and dryers, and gathered a few crates. We continued walking the narrow hall until we reached a place that was cut-off from all views. Still, I wasn't frightened. How strange it was, that thought.

He placed the crates by an opened screen door, damp from the storm outside. "Sorry," he said as we took our seats. "There are no real chairs down here."

"I don't mind. How did you find this place?"

"...I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you." Again, he grinned crookedly at me.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, pulling my shirt over my knees once more. The lightning cracked and frizzled, forcing all the hair on my arms to rise up. I scootched my crate a few feet away from the door. "Isn't that why we're down here in the first place," I teased uneasily. "So you could kill me?"

"I told you I wasn't homicidal," he replied. And then he paused, swallowing and ducking his eyes. "...That trait doesn't run in the family."

Quickly, my heart clenched at his words. I turned and glanced at his profile. His eyes were much greener, almost an emerald glass, when the lightning flashed in them. I bit my lip, shrugging my shoulders. "So, that rumor was true, then?"

Edward turned toward me, fixing me in an intense gaze. My lips parted as air was sucked from my lungs. "You heard about that?"

I nodded meekly, wishing I hadn't mentioned anything. "Yeah..."

With a heavy sigh he turned back toward the storm and shrugged his shoulders. "Guess it's okay to go ahead and get it out of the way," he replied. "It's true."

"I…I'm sorry."

He nodded and pursed his lips, pressing his thumbs together. "What about you?"

I closed my eyes and pressed my face into my knees. "Su…suicide," I answered after a few moments of silence. It was the first time I said it out loud. And I didn't answer _accidental overdose_, like it said on her paperwork.

"Your mother?"

sI couldn't stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Y-Yeah," I whimpered, wiping my face onto my pajama pants.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he sighed softly. "Where is your father?"

"I don't know. I don't know him."

"At all?"

I lifted my chin then turned my head, pressing the right side of my face onto my knees. His eyes studied mine, warming my stiffened frame. He made it easy to talk to him, to be honest. "No," I whispered. "Not at all." Edward licked his lips and nodded, never taking his eyes from mine. I was thankful for that. His gaze warmed me and I didn't want the cold to return to my bones.

"And you don't like storms?" He must have noticed me shivering.

I shook my head, "I hate them. I hate anything that has to do with water... well, besides the shower, anyway. And I take quick ones of those."

His brows furrowed. "Why is that?"

I bit down on my bottom lip and held my legs closer to my body, failing to hold myself together. "...It's... hard to... explain."

"Well," he pulled in a deep breath, "is there anything I can do to... help you?"

I closed my eyes. "I don't think so," I sobbed quietly, my throat burnt raw. "It all just hurts. It... hurts to be forgotten. It hurts to cry about it."

Edward pulled his eyes from mine and squinted as the storm raged on. He knew I wasn't looking for a response. I just needed to get it out.

"You know, I love the water," he stated after several minutes of thunder-filled silence. "But I hate wind."

"Wind?"

"...Yeah."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Wind's the only part of the storm that I can handle."

He grinned out into the moonless night, nodding his head up and down, "...Then I guess we have a decent balance, hmm?"

I studied his features, before turning to face the black sky as well. "...Yeah. I guess so."

Edward and I sat in that cold room on plastic crates colored red and blue and watched the sky hover over the city as it did it's sporadic dance of gold and silver. We were there for hours, providing something new which we both obviously needed. And from the peace in the air and the expression on his face, he was just as aware of it as I was.

With our silent but solid presence, we each somehow offered the other what no one else could, or was even willing to. We gave one another the chance to just… be.

I didn't ask him about his mother or his life or his pain. He didn't ask me about my loneliness or my gloves or my tears. We simply accepted what we were, and in that acceptance, there was a rare moment of comfort.

The hours passed.

The storm raged on.

And no one came to look for us.

As morning drew near, Edward and I tip-toed back upstairs, down empty echoing hallways, and back towards our rooms. We made sure no adults were lurking, then he walked me to the girls' side of the door, and lingered in the doorway. "Well," I shrugged, looking up at his suddenly sad eyes. "I guess it's goodnight... then."

He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Goodnight, Bella."

I gave a reassuring smile before I ducked inside, careful not to disturb any of the girls in the room while I dug out my pajamas. I learned my lesson the week before when I turned on the light. It was catastrophic.

"Oh, hey, Bella?"

His voice caught me off guard, and I jumped, surprised that Edward was still there. Rushing back toward the doorway, I couldn't hide the shock that was evident on my face, though I felt... pleased... to have him around still. "Yeah?"

Edward shuffled from foot to foot, glancing down at the concrete floors, then back up at me. He looked scared suddenly. And still solemn.

"I don't think anyone could ever forget you," he whispered eventually, with a voice that remained velvet and soft, despite his troubled eyes. "Not even when they're gone."

I sighed and cradled my body, thinking of my mom and hoping that what he said was true. Again, it was strange how he knew just the right words to ease my unspoken fears.

"...Thank you, Edward."

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than E/B getting through the storm.**

~*~

**SIDENOTE ANNOUNCEMENT ; Regarding **_**True Life : The Next Factor**_**.  
**I've received close to a hundred pm's & emails regarding your questions for the sequel posting date. Guys, I realize it's December and the sequel hasn't launched, and I'm sorry for that. I am dealing with personal issues atm, things that MUST be taken care of, and will get to it as soon as it is (and I am) ready. I am not delaying the story any more than I have to, but I REFUSE to post anything half-assed.

Currently for TNF, I am hard at work at re-drafting outlines, discussing options, picking pieces, songs, pictures, etc, making the banners and layouts for the new and upcoming Twilighted thread, so on and so forth. It's all in the works. It has not been forgotten. The new posting date has NOT BEEN DETERMINED. I'm not going to set a specific date or time for the posting schedule of TNF until I get further along with things. The best thing you can do is to put me on "Author's Alerts" list if you haven't, that way when it gets posted (which it will), you'll be the first to know. I understand you're eagerness, and trust me, I'm excited too. I promise you that it will be worth the wait if you're willing to stick around.

TEF has been nominated for 2 Shimmer Awards (in profile for details.) Thank you so much for your love, nominations, as well as your concerns, blessings, and patience with me. ILYG.


	7. CH 6: Currents & Tides

"_"Eternity begins and ends with the ocean's tides."_  
~ Unknown

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Six : Currents & Tides.  
**As the demons inside _The Volturi Center_ start to circle, Edward and Bella discover a fragile new trust....  
(Pictures of kids + more have been added to profile)

* * *

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/facebookers/lexiconers**.... Over a thousand reviews all ready!! WOW!! Keep it up!! You all truly keep me motivated. I'm sorry the chapter wasn't posted last night, was caught up in lackage of internet drama. Damn computer conspiracies! And guess what! _Ragweeds _has been nominated for the _**2009 Twilight Awards**_, as is _TEF_! It still needs **3** more votes to be considered as an "_official nominee_". There's info in the profile, be sure to read the first page of the link for all the details. Thank you so much to whomever nominates(ed) my stories. Be sure to vote for your favorites!!!  
-- To **my beta Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... Thank you for providing a shoulder, a voice, an ear, and any other appendage I might need. (Haha, that sounds funny.) My day isn't complete without your presence, and your input. I don't know how I do anything without you!  
-- Special shout-out to one of my besties, **Aura (Rebecca's Mom) **for your constant help with finding pictures for this story. You know how to pick apart my brain, and I love you endlessly for it, as well as the time & effort you put into this. I owe you the moon! (Tell Estela I say hello and to write me back when she can, haha!)  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**  
" All the consequences...  
I have lost control.  
Love has left.  
All the things you've done, I adore you.  
All the things you gave me, I adore...  
And now I hear the sound... of a new song.  
Now I hear the sound...."  
~ Robin Foster, "Goodnight & God Bless"  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Six : Currents & Tides**

**EdwardPOV **

I chewed the skin around my thumb nail and stared at my psych book. The words flowed across the pages, lines of text turning to streams, a churning, swollen river. I couldn't focus. My eyes, still tired and growing weak, didn't want to cooperate with me. "I'm thinking about shaving my head," I said with a sigh, turning to my right. "What do you think?"

Angela slid the black-rimmed glasses down her nose and dropped the side of her face into her palm, before turning back to me. "Me too."

"No," I said dryly. "I'm serious."

"Why would you want to shave your head, Edward?"

"I'm sick of the nicknames. Alec is driving me nuts with that shit."

"I'm sure your roots are copper, too."

"Then I'll shave it completely. No hair at all."

Angela let out a tired groan and was hushed by the kids who were actually trying to do their work. "Then they'll just call you _baldy_," she whispered hastily. "So it's really pointless to do it."

My legs bounced beneath the graffitied wooden table where we sat, as if they had been soaked in caffeine until it absorbed through the bone. It'd been over a week since I'd been in the basement, which was my escape. Over a week since I had someone besides Angela to talk to... or _not _to talk to, for that matter. Other than the few times we'd pass in the halls and exchange shy smiles or cautious expressions, I hadn't seen Bella around. She wouldn't show up in the study class we had together. She took her lunch out of the cafeteria. I didn't know where she went or what was on her mind, but I constantly wondered about it. I was tempted to follow her one day, see what she was up to, but then she'd probably think that I was a stalker.

But I couldn't get the girl off my mind. And for that, maybe I _was _a stalker. Who the fuck knows.

I needed an escape. I was starting to lose my mind. I dropped my head on my arms and closed my eyes, imagining the sound of waves crashing, or the smell of a fresh pool, glowing blue and waiting for me. That's what I needed. That's what would make me better. Sitting for hours at my old high school in Forks, beside a shimmering heaven. I could swim in silence, like a fish in an aquarium. The water carried me. It embraced me. It washed away my pain and nurtured my happiness. And now, it was gone. Like ink smeared on torn journal entries, my serenity vanished as if it had never been there in the first place.

School was school. Kids were kids. Counselors were counselors. And hours passed endlessly.

By the end of the week, my entire body had become a tangle of taut wires, exhaustion, anger, and longing. I felt my brain throb, my chest clench. My mother's letters came more frequently, but were more depressing.

_What should I think about life? _the last one read. _Should I praise it for allowing me the power I needed light years before, or curse it into damnation for allowing him to rip apart our bones for so long? Where is the justice? Where is the pat of hands upon my back? News travels fast here at the hospital. People inquire about you, ask how you're handling your own demons, and I tell them you're my son and you're doing fine. Do you hear me, Edward? You ARE my son. I didn't have the courage to define you as that back then, or the strength to tell you that I loved you when your eyes begged me to. I was too far gone, like a magician's last trick, vanished into the smoke. I was ashamed of what I'd allowed. Every bruise, every break you carried, was for me, and I didn't want that, but I was too weak to pull him from you. But guess what, my beautiful son. I found that strength, when I needed it most. And he'll never hurt you again. So I guess, for that, I found my justice after all. Now, I'm just waiting for the pat._

My mother. The weakest link turned iron man.

~*~

The following evening brought more clouds. I hadn't realized I'd been looking aimlessly for Bella until I found her. She sat on an empty basketball court, in the sprinkling rain, with what appeared to be a worn sketchbook in her lap. _She drew_, I thought to myself. I hadn't known that about her. I didn't know anything. But, still, somehow, I felt left out.

Ignoring the fact that I was supposed to be in a therapy meeting, I threw the black hood of my sweatshirt over my head and jogged over to her. Cold drops of water fell, washing the dirt off the grass and making it new again. The air from my lungs clouded in front of my face the way steam did from a train. "Hey. You okay?"

She cleared her throat and curled the sketchbook into her chest, hiding whatever she was working on from me. "H-how are you?"

"The same," I answered simply. "What are you doing out here in the rain? I thought you didn't like water."

There was a cut on her lip. A fresh one. She nodded solemnly, gazing down at the darkening pavement beneath her. "I don't. But I needed to get out of there."

I glanced around the empty yard, noticed a few kids staring back at us from the glass inside the building, then plopped down in front of her. I'd rather catch Pneumonia with this girl than be inside and miserable, or worse, in confinement for hitting those who scarred her. "What are you working on there?"

"A drawing of my mom."

I hesitated, not wanting to push to hard. "May I see it?" I asked softly.

Her eyes bounced quickly to mine, probably not expecting my blunt request, or the fact that I'd invited myself to sit with her without permission. Without a single word, she turned the sketchbook around and ducked her head, ashamed of her work. My chest throbbed as I stared at the symmetric charcoal lines, the ebb and flow of the beginning resemblance to beautiful, pale fingers. "Why only her hands?"

The honey behind Bella's lashes filled with a watery glaze, but she blinked it away. She shrugged the pain off as easily as she could. "It's the last thing I saw of her," she replied gently. "I'm trying to keep it in my memory, but no matter how many times I've drawn it, it's never right." Bella flipped the pages angrily, brief glimpses of sketch after sketch of flawless hands, folded, posed artistically, holding coffee cups, cigarettes, half-glasses of wine, or clutching another set of hands similar to their own. Each piece of art was made to be hung on a wall somewhere, for all the world to see. Not trapped in binding and cardboard.

"What are you talking about?" I furrowed my brows. "They look amazing."

Bella snapped the sketchbook closed and shoved the charcoal stems in her pocket. "No. They don't." The shell had hardened around her, and I frowned in regret. I didn't know what to do, or how to apologize and make her feel better. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to leave, but she didn't ask, and I didn't want to.

I pulled the hood further down my forehead, and watched the rain splatter around us, getting heavier. I said the only thing that came to mind. "...It's good to see you, Bella."

She looked up at the same time I did and our eyes met. "Yeah," she said, the corner of her lips threatening to curl upward. "You too."

~*~

The next day, I did not want to get out of bed. I lay there for hours, pulled the covers over my head, and prayed for my brain to stop working. By the time two o'clock came around, I didn't have a choice, and forced myself to shower. My entire body felt like a metal slab. Heavy, stiff, and uncooperative.

"Edward," Miss Johnson greeted me as I strolled into the kitchen, "we've been looking everywhere for you!"

"We?"

Her hand found my back, and she turned me around to walk in her direction. "Come on. I have someone I want you to meet." Miss Johnson led me into her office, closed the door behind us, and motioned for me to take the only available seat in the tiny space. "Edward Cullen, I'd like you to meet Renee Anderson."

A tall, skinny lady with strong features and shoulder-length brown hair rose from her chair, clumsily pushed her portfolio to the seat, and extended her hand. "Hello Edward. It's so nice to meet you."

"Renee is going to be taking over your case, Edward," Miss Johnson explained with a smile.

I studied the woman before me, noting all her innocence and willing-to-please expression. "Nice to meet you, too."

~*~

Renee took me to Burger King. It felt good to get out. She ordered herself an iced coffee and large fry, and the largest combo meal available for me. We sat in the corner by the window so we could have some privacy. She spoke with volume and used her hands to emphasize her words. Her eyes never lost any excitement. She laughed whenever the sarcasm rang in my voice, though I didn't talk much. She told me a few jokes of her own, some which would not be considered age-appropriate, which was awesome. She reminded me more of someone my age than her own. I wondered how old she was.

"You're quite shy, aren't you?" she asked, tossing me a third ketchup packet.

I shrugged with a slight smile. "You could say that."

Renee was very intuitive. Dingy, but clever. Around most people, I _was _shy. At The Volt, my anger got the best from me, and the majority of the time I opened my mouth, it was to yell at Alec. But any time I was away from there, when all the pressure lifted off my shoulders, I became the quiet guy who was well-mannered and polite. I had even been called a gentleman by some people. It all flooded back. And, it further convinced me that The Volturi Center had a demon inside of it. You could only breathe when you escape.

Once we finished eating, I cleared the table. Renee pulled out her briefcase and a pack of Marlboro's. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Go ahead."

She held out one for me and raised her eyebrow. She was much cooler than any of my other caseworkers. I grinned and took it. "This is a nasty habit," I said as I lit hers, then mine. She didn't comment on my lighter or ask me to hand it over. "I never smoked until I was put in that place."

"Yeah," she said, adjusting the sunglasses on her head as she picked up another stack of papers. She wasn't the most organized. I liked that. "It says in here that you enjoy swimming. I find it hard to believe you've accomplished all these school records with a nicotine habit."

"It eliminates stress," I blew the smoke away from her face. "I'll stop when I get out."

She grinned and pulled out a manila folder. "Well, the good news is, you won't become addicted."

"Why's that?"

Renee's smile grew wide as she slid some papers toward me. "Because Billy Black would love for you to come and live with him. You've been placed, Edward."

* * *

**BellaPOV**

"Hey beautiful Bella."

Squinting my eyes, I turned to my left, and found Demetri taking a seat beside me on the couch. "Please don't call me that."

"I was only trying to cheer you up. Put a smile on that pale face of yours."

I sighed.

"So," he grinned. "What's up?"

"I have a headache."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How have you been lately?"

"You know," I sighed heavily, clutching the pillow that lay on my lap, "for just one day, I _really _wish I didn't have to hear or answer that question."

He looked taken back. "Forgive me for being concerned."

"No, it's not that. It's not you. I just... That's all everyone does. The therapists, the counselors, the nurse, the lunch lady in the kitchen, the woman at the front desk, my caseworker, the janitor... It's annoying."

"Bella, I'm with you. I'm not a caseworker or anyone else around here. But I haven't seen you around lately and I thought I'd visit with you for a while. If you want me to go, just say it."

"Thanks," I replied shortly, shaking my head. Demetri was sweet. I knew I shouldn't push the few people away who actually made an attempt to get to know me. That didn't mean I was in the mood for company. But I didn't have the heart to tell him to leave, either.

"What are you thinking about so heavily over there?"

"About Tylenol."

"Is your headache that bad?"

I gave a nod.

Demetri took my hand and pulled me off the couch, faster than I could blink. "Come on. I'll help you out with that."

"No, it's ok-"

"Oh come on. Don't be a baby. I won't hurt you or eat you or anything... unless-"

"Don't even say it," I cut him off. He gave a narcissistic smirk and continued pulling me down the hall, carefully avoiding the front desk monitors, and into the bedroom he slept in.

"Wow." I looked around, noticing this room was much nicer than all of the rest, with only one other bed besides his. "How did you get this?"

"I'm _privileged_," he said, using his fingers to emphasize the word. He chuckled and removed a book bag from beneath his bed, shaking his head. "It's great, hmm?"

"Yeah. I'd give anything for something like this. Must be nice to have privacy..."

"Oh, it is." Demetri pulled out a clear baggie stuffed in a tiny compartment in the bag, opened my palm, and shoved four white pills inside. "There. That should get you through for a few days. Only take one for now though."

My fingers began to tremble as I stared at the tablets. "Wh-what are these?"

"It'll get rid of your headache much faster than Tylenol will, trust me."

"B-but what are th-these?"

"They're Vicod-"

Before he finished the word, a wailing scream escaped my throat, raw and vivid. I threw my hand in the air, flinging the pills across the hardwood floor. They crashed to the ground like puzzle pieces. I hadn't realized how I had reacted until I noticed Demetri on the floor in front of me, with his hand over my mouth in a failed attempt muffle my screams. I had backed all the way into the very bottom of his closet, and curled up into a fetal position.

Flashes of my mom's lifeless body hit me hard and fast, the empty bottle on the ground, the pills scattered across the white carpet of her bedroom. Over and over, the scene played out. _She's dead, she's dead, she's dead_...

"Bella, you have to calm down!" he said, his eyes frantically searching the room. The baggie had been thrown to the floor. The remaining pills were scattered in plain sight. "Bella! Please!"

"She's dead!" I heard my voice shouting, as he tried to cover my mouth again. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead!"

My mother's laughter floated through my mind, her beautiful teeth and red lips and gorgeous eyes. Then, my mind flashed to her lifeless body, her eyes wide, drained and lifeless. Then she was reaching out to me, pushing me on the swing set. Then, her pale hand dangled off of the stretcher.

I couldn't get a grip on what was going on. Flash, flash, flash. Her eyes, her voice, her body. Flash, flash, flash. Alive, lifeless, alive. Over and over, she spun around in my head, made me spin around.

"She's dead! Oh my God, she's dead!" I cried, my tears pouring from my lashes and across his fingers as he tried harder to silence me. "Mom! No! Mommy! Nooooooo!! No, no, please MOM! _MOM_!!"

Demetri struggled to hold my body as the flashes moved quicker and quicker, like a film set to fast-forward at maximum speed. I heard my voice bouncing around the walls, felt my knuckles grow white from the strain of me squeezing something in my hands. In the fog-like state, I watched as three sets of feet scrambled into Demetri's room. I tried to understand what they were shouting, but heard nothing over my own strangled screams. They dropped to their knees in front of me, and the lady from the front desk, a nurse, and my therapist's hands all reached out to me. But I cowered deeper into the closet, until I was sat on top of a crate of shoes.

Suddenly, the room around me went completely white and got very quiet. I was no longer there with them. In the middle of the fog, I noticed that a lady facing away from me, in heels, dark jeans, a jacket, and scarf, with her long hair blowing to one side. It was cold in the middle of all the white snow. I ran as fast as I could, desperate to get to her. "MOM!" I cried, trying to catch my breath. "Mommy! Turn around! I'm here, Mom. _Mom_!"

"Help us!" Someone shouted, echoing and distant. "Get a nurse!"

I couldn't focus on them, didn't dare lose her. I couldn't see her face, but I knew that was my mom. I'd know her shape anywhere. Her smell. Her presence. I had to get closer, had to touch her again. The snow weighed me down. I screamed her name as loud as possible, until the distance between us closed. I watched as her feet, then her hips, then her chest, then her face turned to look at me. When I finally reached her, I extended my hands, desperate to hug her close to me. Her beautiful brown eyes, eyes that had been filled with so much life, suddenly went pitch black. Her ivory face tinted to a disturbing shade of blue. Then, her glossy lips opened, and became parched.

My mom dropped into the snow. She was unmoving. I wanted to scream.

It wasn't snow on which she lay now. It was a mountain of white Vicodin pills.

And I was standing over her lifeless body, once again, unable to reach her in time.

"MOM!" I screamed as loud as I could, praying to rewind time. I stared at her body, cold and empty, and dropped to my knees in front of her. My hands shook. I sobbed her name, touched her chapped lips with my trembling, cold fingers. She was so beautiful. Always beautiful. "Mommy," I whispered, choking on the pain in my throat. "Please wake up..."

"No, don't! Get away! Carl, get him!"

"Just give me a moment."

"No-"

"Just, give me a damn minute!"

I lay my face onto my mom's chest, used my hands to shove as many pills away from her body as I could. They kept floating back, tried to cover her. They were going to overtake her again. I couldn't allow it. I pushed more away.

"...Bella..."

"Mommy, please stay with me," I sobbed as I pushed the hair from her ears. I placed my lips next to them, wiped the desperation and wetness from my own lashes. "...Please stay."

"...Bella, can you hear me?" It was not my mom's voice, which I wanted so desperately to hear. But, it was another familiar voice, full of comfort.

"Edward, this isn't going to work. She's having P.T.S.D! She thinks she's somewhere else! You are not a doc-"

"Just shut the hell up!" the echoing voice hissed, somewhere in the distance of all the white that surrounded my mother and I. "You don't know what she's going through! I do!"

I stared at the pink rose flush, still across her cheeks. It happened again, and I was too late. It was so fresh, so real. All over, the pain pulled me down. "...Mommy..."

"...Bella..." his angelic voice said again, getting a little louder now. "I want you to listen to my voice. Are you with your mom right now?"

"She's dead," I whimpered as the tremors shook through me. "I saw her. I tried to make it in time, but I didn't. I still couldn't get to her."

"Bella, listen to me. I need you to hear my-"

"Give her the shot, Carl! We need to sedate her so she can stabilize-"

"Wait!" he barked, as a sudden warmth touched my shivering hands. "Fucking _wait_!"

He let out a heavy sigh, and his voice was calm again. Soothing, even. "Can you feel my hands, Bella?"

I nodded and stared down at my mom's face, which was beginning to blur. "Don't go," I whispered. "Please-"

More warmth surrounded me. The smell of Demetri's closet came flooding back, and the white surrounding my mother and I began to fade quickly.

"Bella, I'm right here with you. You're not alone, do you hear me?"

I whispered my mom's name, until she vanished from my sight. Then I sat in the blackness and felt the heaviness of being empty settle back over me.

"Stay with me, Bella. I know how you're feeling, where you are right now. I know you feel nothing."

I sniffled, wiping my nose. The angel was right. I saw only black now. The numbing sensation covered my body. I welcomed it all. She was gone. I didn't want to be here. Anywhere.

"Please know you're not alone," he whispered thickly, as a quick poke entered my right arm.

The angel sobbed and brushed the hair from my face, whispering to me as the darkness grew heavier. "You're not alone, Bella. I'm here... I'm here." I wanted to reach out and comfort him. Angels shouldn't cry. But, I couldn't. The dark pulled at me.

~*~

I had been to Heaven. At least, something like it. I didn't know what Heaven looked like, but I had been inside of it, with her. I touched her mouth. She kissed my fingers. She whispered to me that I wasn't alone, that she loved me still. And then she had vanished into the clouds.

When I came to, I inhaled the familiar smell of plastic, bleach, and leather. I knew exactly where I was, and it wasn't with my mom. I had been cut up far too many times to get that nasty smell out of my head. My home away from home... not that I had a home. The nurse's station.

The popcorn ceiling welcomed me. I blinked up at it, trying to remember what had happened to put me back there. Did I fall? Did Sheena's friends jump me again? Why couldn't I remember much?

"Welcome back."

The low, hoarse voice to my left startled me. I let out a gasp and clutched my chest, jerking my eyes left to get a good look at him. My eyes struggled to focus. It took a moment for the white to fade, for his features to set into view. He adjusted the worn collar of his plaid shirt and leaned in, folding his hands together. His mouth parted and he blinked in thought, contemplating his words. The only thing I hoped was that he didn't ask me how I was. And, as if he could read minds, he didn't. "Did you sleep well?"

I laid my head back against the paper covered pillow and rubbed my eyes. "How long have I been like this?"

"A few hours."

"Wh-what happened?" My voice was rough, scratchy. But I couldn't remember if it was from lack of use or overuse.

"You..." Edward paused and scratched the back of his head, once again choosing his words. I wished he wouldn't do that. It made me feel like he was walking on egg shells. Like everyone else. "Bella, maybe we should discuss what put you here after you're able to gather your bearings."

I nodded, still tired, and closed my eyes, wishing I didn't feel so stiff and that he wouldn't avoid my questions. "Why are _you _here?"

He exhaled slowly. When he didn't reply, I turned to look at him again. Silence filled the passing minutes. We studied each other's unreadable expressions. Finally, he answered. "...I don't know."

"Wh-what do you mean, you don't know?"

He massaged his face and shook his head, staring down at the ground. His brows furrowed. The muscles in his neck tightened, as did his knuckles when he clenched his hands into fists. "I just got back. I walked in the front door, and.... I heard you. All the way down the hall, around the corner, I heard you, and... I don't know."

"Stop saying _you don't know_," I snapped, wincing at the sharp pain in my head. I rubbed it away. "Just tell me what happened."

Edward closed his eyes and growled in frustration. Then he was on his feet. He began pacing around the room, in front of the tiny bed where I lay. "I heard you. You were screaming. At first, I thought that maybe Demetri was doing something…wrong." He seemed to hesitate over the last word, like he meant something else. "I knew his room was down there. So I ran, because I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don't know why. I mean, it wasn't my business. But I _couldn't_ let him hurt you, you know? Hell. I don't even know. I mean, you _had _to be hurting. People don't scream like that, unless they're hurt, or scared, or both. I know that type of scream. I've heard it all my life. But then you called for your mother, and I-"

Edward paused and stared at me, his trembling hands patting his chest. "..._I'd_ been there before. I didn't have anyone, when the realization came, and I knew how scary it was. I didn't want you to go through that! I mean. Fuck! I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have bothered, but... I couldn't... I had to..."

He inhaled and stepped closer, leaning over the foot of my bed. His emerald eyes stared into mine, searching for something. "I had to make sure that you were safe. Don't ask me why. I just... Bella, I had to know."

Blinking, I nodded back at him, unable to respond.

Edward took a minute before he pushed off the bed and began to pace again. His fingers tugged at his hair. "Fuck!" he cursed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have interfered. Like I said, it wasn't my business, but I-"

"No, it's okay." I shook my head, trying to catch my breath. He was the one walking in circles, but I felt my lungs tightening, the dizziness coming. "It's okay," I said again. "I'm... I'm glad you did." I closed my eyes and braced my head, trying to slow it all down. "Would you please stop pacing like that?!" Boots squeaked across the tile floors. When I opened my eyes, he was still, staring back at me. I exhaled and dropped my hands. "Thank you."

Edward inhaled slowly and nodded his head.

"No Edward," I replied, studying his eyes. "Really. Thank you."

The buzzing from the light above us grew louder in the echoing silence. Edward walked over to me and took his seat beside the bed again. "You should rest more," he sighed, leaning back against the leather. "I'll be here when you wake up."

I figured I should tell him he didn't have to. He probably had somewhere else he'd rather be; not supervising the nutjob. But I didn't want to be alone. And, more than that, I didn't want _him_ to go. So I closed my eyes and did as he said. I had a feeling there wasn't a point in arguing with him.

The Volturi Center was quiet for once. Occasionally, I'd hear people passing, the squeaks from their shoes or murmuring of their voices. I listened as the nurse came in and checked on me a few times, putting a cold wash cloth on my forehead. But the last thing I remember was when they told him to go to his bed, that he didn't need to be there. I grew anxious, knowing that the cold would return once he left. It always did when I was alone. I wanted to open my eyes and beg them, but they were too heavy. I couldn't voice my request.

"I'm not leaving until she orders me away," he said simply.

Those few words gave such simple reassurance. I sighed in contentment and finally allowed the exhaustion to take me.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

I didn't sleep. Again.

I refused to be unavailable to Bella, just in case she needed me. I stayed with her through the night and didn't expect anything in return, other than the relief that she could rest. Her innocent smile and shy thank you was more than a reward to me this morning. In such little time, the effect this girl had on me was huge.

"Knock, knock!" Renee pulled me out of my thoughts, tapping her knuckles on the frame of the room I shared. "How are you doing?"

I gave a slow shrug, blinking my tired eyes. My voice was still hoarse and barely audible. "Fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"No, I'm fine," I insisted, sitting on my bunk bed. I had the bottom bunk. Lucky for me, I didn't get a pisser above my bed. Darren, across the hall, had that privilege. "What's up?"

"You have a gift." She handed me a large box, wrapped in artistic, handmade paper, which looked rather expensive. I furrowed my brows, giving her a cautious look. Renee simply smiled at me. "From your soon-to-be foster dad. Sort of a pre-welcome home gift." My arms felt like lead as I ripped the package open. Renee pulled out her keys and helped me cut the tape sealing the lid. Then I removed the contents and tried to figure out exactly what they were and why I would need them. Renee giggled and patted my back. "They're the start of a... very large present."

"Gloves, kneepads, and a helmet?"

"A... very large present with wheels," she clarified with a large grin.

I looked over at her and shook my head. "I don't understand."

Renee's hands lifted in front of her, turning invisible handles. "Vroom, vroom?"

I almost fell off the mattress once the realization of what this all meant had settled in. Why his boys couldn't make it to meet me. The race. "A-Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

"He purchased a dirt bike for me?!"

"Yep."

I stood up and stared at the intricate green and black designs on them. "No, no, he can't do that. It's too much, I couldn't acce-"

"Relax, okay? Some parents like to buy gifts for children. It's nothing unusual. Don't look at is as a bribe or anything. He wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea. He isn't trying to _buy _you. This is just his way of saying, welcome to his family, and he hopes that it will work out."

I stared at them for the longest time. It was surreal. "No one's ever given me anything like this, Renee... Not even like the gloves and helmet."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything I own is hand-me-downs. Worn out." I tapped the toe of my dirty boot against the floor.

Renee curled her arm over my shoulders and pulled me into her side, a motherly type of embrace I wasn't used to. "Well... maybe this is a sign that things aren't going back the way they were. You deserve better, Edward. So... stick with me, and trust where I guide you. It's okay to let him give you a fresh start. You'll see."

~*~

The day lengthened. In the prolonged twilight, I finished my chores, hung my clothes, turned my mother's letter into the outbox at the front desk, and moved into the rec room where all the other kids were.

I glanced up in time to find Bella entering from the opposite direction. Her face had more color in it than ever before. It may seem selfish, but I felt a little proud, believing that maybe I had something to do with that. It would have been nice if someone had put some color in my face, back when I was in her place. Unfortunately, then, I was a battered ship without a sail. Sometimes, I still felt lost at sea.

Her eyes met mine. The warmth flooded through me, and I gave her a tender smile.

"Copperhead, you wanna join Heidi and me for a game of pool?"

I glared over at Alec, who seemed to be hanging all over a new arrival. Poor girl. "I'd rather drink bleach," I sneered at him. Alec continued babbling on and on as Bella came toward me. I pretended he spoke a foreign language, and that I couldn't understand a word from his lips.

"Hey," Bella's voice whispered, timid again. Her eyes were cast to the floor. "We meet again," she giggled softly. Instinctively, my hand shot out before me, and I lifted her chin with my finger. Her lips parted when our eyes rejoined.

"We can only meet if you look at me," I replied sincerely.

Bella licked her lips, then scraped her teeth across the bottom one. She began to speak but decided against it. Her eyes flitted as she finally met mine. "...I, um... I w-wanted to say th-"

"Don't," I shook my head. "Don't worry about that. I just want you to feel good."

Bella's head dropped but I lifted it back up, forcing her to look at me. "Edward," she sighed. "...I don't know if I'll ever feel good again. I don't know how to."

"Sure you do."

"No," she frowned. "I don't think I do."

"Well," I thought for a second, replaying everything I knew about her. It wasn't much to go on. "You... like to draw, don't you? Doesn't that make you smile?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Then you should do that. Whatever it takes."

Her arms crossed over her chest, but not in a protective way. Her honey eyes narrowed as she stared up into mine. And, for some reason, all I could think about was our height difference. It was quite cute. "Can I draw you?"

I didn't expect that response. "Uhhh, what?"

"Can I draw you?" she asked again, speaking each word slower. Like I was dumb. I chuckled under my breath. "What, like a nude model?" A rose colored flush crossed her ivory cheeks, and her fist lifted to conceal it. _Too late Bella_. _I all ready saw it_.

"Y-you don't have to be," she stammered, blushing deeper now. "I didn't say anything about nudity."

"I was fucking with you, Bella." I cocked an eyebrow at her interesting assumption.

Her eyes steadied on mine, and her lips parted. She was definitely adorable. "Oh. Okay. Well, um, so, is that a yes?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Sure. Show me what you got."

Bella gathered her supplies and met me in my secret spot, in the corner of the basement by the broken screen door. She moved the crates around and sat me directly across from her, a few feet covering the distance. I made my posture stiff, tall, and unmoving. Bella slouched over her tablet, and gave me an annoying glare. "You don't have to sit like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're wearing a back brace."

"Maybe I want you to draw me in one."

"Edward," she groaned, becoming more feisty. I decided I liked that side of her. "Are you going to be like this all night?"

"Well, why don't you come over here and position me how you want me?"

Her face filled with more rose color, and I couldn't help but chuckle. How deep did this girl's mind go? When she rose to her feet, her sketchpad crashed to the floor, and the pages splattered everywhere. She was clumsy when she picked it all back up, and I figured that I liked that about her, too. I held my breath and tried not to laugh. She sighed and threw her hands on her hips. "Why are you being so... difficult?"

"Maybe I enjoy getting a rise out of you?"

"I think you should find another hobby."

"I'm liking this one."

"I don't want to be your hobby," she insisted as she slapped her hands on my shoulder and moved me around. That sensational, crazy current flew threw my body, making me sit taller in the seat. Bella gasped and clutched my shirt, staring down at me. "S-sorry," she said, though she had nothing to apologize for. This wasn't the type of jolt that you received from static. It was... lasting. I tried to shrug it off, but words failed me. She cleared her throat and began again. When I wouldn't budge, she shook me around a bit.

"God, would you loosen up?!" she growled, forcing me to laugh. "I don't think you're funny at all."

"Whatever," I chuckled. "I'm wonderful. Admit it."

"No."

I reached my hand up and tapped her left cheek, and noticed her fighting away a smile. "Oh come on," I insisted, grinning up at her. "You know you want to."

She smacked my hand away and pushed it toward my lap. "Don't touch the artist."

I stayed quiet as she positioned me. I couldn't help but think that it was how I sat last night, when I watched her sleep, with my elbows on my knees, my hands folded, and me leaning toward her. I wondered if she knew that's how I'd spent the night. The thought silenced me. It seemed easy for this girl to make me lose my words.

Bella fell into a deep concentration while she worked, and I did my best to remain still and be good. But after a long while, it became boring sitting so still. Not that I didn't find comfort in the way she concentrated, or how her lips parted when she got to a specific part, or how her lashes fluttered slowly mid-stroke. But I had to make this a little more interesting. I was dying to see her smile. Plus I had a cramp or two in my neck.

First I stuck out my tongue. That didn't work. Then I began to flick it around and cross my eyes. She still wouldn't budge. Inspecting the floor, I picked up two clothes pins and stuck them on my ears, making sure not to snap the skin. She huffed and dropped the tablet. "Would you _stop_?"

"Smile."

"No! I'm trying to draw you!"

"I'm not stopping you."

"Edward."

"Bella."

She pursed her lips, and her stare became a little more ferocious. She reminded me of a lioness, right before it bit off its preys' head. But I still found her cute. "Can you at least remove the clothes thingies?"

"Did you just ask me to remove my clothes?" I teased.

"Clothes _pins_," she quickly corrected, flushing again.

I had to laugh. "If you smile."

She forced one out, closed-lipped and tight. I shook my head. "Not good enough. I wanna see some teeth." Exhaling in an annoyed fashion, she bared a full set, her eyes bulging wide. I laughed so hard, I almost fell off the crate. "That's better," I replied. "Was that so tough?"

"Yes. Now will you please focus?"

I kept on my best behavior until the very end, when she finally dropped her pencil. By that point, I was too stiff to make an effort. I needed oil to un-rust my bones. "Ohhh," I groaned, stretching my limbs, "God, it hurts sitting in one spot for so long. I think my ass is going to have permanent markings from the holes in that crate."

She sighed, walked behind me, and held out her artwork for me to see. "You're being a baby."

I pulled the sketchbook from her hands and was surprised when her fingers found my neck. They trembled as she kneaded the sore muscles. I could tell she was unnerved by her timid ministrations, and so was I. But we tried not to make that point obvious.

The familiar warming current came between us. And between that and the amazing artistry that was Bella's sketch, I'd become completely content. I didn't expect what I saw, not even when I witnessed the drawing's of her mom's hands. This was better than any mirror. Bella's eyes captured me in ways that my own couldn't. She highlighted the specks of gold in my eyes. She caught the crimson in my bronzed hair, enhanced the texture of my lips, pinpointed the line of my jaw... This wasn't how I saw myself at all. This was how she saw me. And I didn't feel worthy. For the first time in my entire life, I felt my cheeks warm into a blush, and I looked down to conceal it.

"What?" She quickly walked around me, mistaking my silent reaction for the worst. "Is it bad? Do you hate it? Oh God, give it back."

I clutched the sketch in my fingers and shook my head, gathering myself together. I had no idea how, but I was overwhelmed, utterly swept up in her mind. Her talent floored me. The girl had a gift. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life Bella," I explained softly. "...Thank you for this."

She dropped to her knees in front of me, fiddled with her thumbs, and bit her lip, "A-are you sure? I can re-do it. I mean, it's not per-"

"No, it is," I reassured her quickly, meeting her eyes once again. "It is perfect, Bella. I... never thought anyone would see me this way, even for one second."

Bella ran her fingers through her hair, never breaking eye-contact with me. "This _is _the way people see you, Edward... At least, I do. In fact, it doesn't do it justice, but I mean, I don't think I'll ever make it right." She fiddled with her fingers again, still uncomfortable. "I mean, like you said, we don't know each other but... I can tell you're nice. I feel I _know _who you are, even though it's impossible. I see the things that others may not, and I feel blessed to." She dropped her eyes and covered her face, shaking her head wildly. "I'm scaring you, aren't I? I'm not making any sense-"

I cut her off carefully, lifting her chin back up. "Why don't you tell me what you mean?"

She sighed and tilted her head, studying me once more. "You calm me, Edward. And it's scary how easy that calm comes. I don't know you. I don't know your favorite color, or food, or song. I have no idea what you want to be. I don't know how you spent your last Christmas, and I don't know if you wear boxers or briefs -- _not that I should be thinking about that_ -- but, _ugh_. When everything gets thrown around and the sky begins to flip... sometimes, I can feel you in the building, and knowing that you're here, that you're the only person I believe won't hurt me, ...that's all it takes for me to find gravity again. I know I'm probably freaking you out, and you think I'm some stalkerish freak and I swear I'm not, bu-"

"I know exactly what you mean."

She stopped speaking and pulled back a few inches. I didn't look away.

"I know what you mean, Bella," I repeated. "I cannot explain it any better than you can, but... there's something... _strange_... going on. I've become dependent on the comfort you bring by walking down the same hall as I do, even if you've walked it hours before. Simply knowing someone in here isn't out for blood or glory, knowing that I have someone to share my secret place with, and trusting that you won't tell anyone... I... I think you're a great person, and I don't want to see this place swallow you up. I want you to feel safe. And, I'm not sure if you want me to, but, if you do, then I'll do my part to make sure that happens."

Her eyes became puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I sighed and folded my fingers together, fighting the urge to touch her. "This place is hell. Yes, it's a roof over your head. But it's a bottomless pit, too. I've seen the worst come out of people, and it will damage you more than the streets. Look... I want to be your friend. I've never really had any, aside from Angela, but I do want that. And... I may not be able to take you away from here, but I'll do whatever I can to save you from the darkness. I promise."

She exhaled slowly and looked to the ground. Her frame trembled. "Edward, this is crazy... We don't know anything about each other. I could be some psycho who's come down to the basement with you just so I could hack you into pieces."

"Well, as long as the pieces turn out as amazing as that artwork there, I won't care," I grinned. "Hey. Look at me."

Her tongue swept over her lips before she did as I asked.

I gave a gentle smile. "I'll take my chances with you. I want us to learn how to trust, and with time, I'd love it if you would let me in. I want you to be able to come to me if you need someone."

Her honey eyes turned warm and inviting. Mine reflected that feeling. "...I'll let you in," she eventually whispered. "...I will."

I glanced back at the sketch, stroked my fingers across the pencil lines. Bella looked at me differently than the others. I wasn't an outcast to her, some poor guy who was washed out and deserted. In this drawing, Bella didn't put any of my scars, bruises, or broken memories. This was the person I wanted to be.

It held all the reassurance I needed.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

The rain was endless. Much worse than the other side of Seattle, where my home was. I felt as if I were walking on quicksand every time I stepped out into the yard. My shoes could never stay clean. I didn't try to wash them anymore. We had to place pots and jugs in the corners of the building to catch the leaks. We took turns emptying them in the yard.

Demetri wouldn't speak to me. Once I figured out the details of what happened, I tried to approach him, to make my apology. He looked at me like I would fall to pieces if he so much as exhaled. He got into serious trouble for having the pills. The private bedroom and all of his privileges were taken, all because of me and my mental breakdown. I didn't blame him for being angry. I was angry at myself.

Meetings and counseling sessions continued. It didn't matter if I said two words or vented twenty pages worth of anger. I got the same response. "Good. We're progressing." What did that mean, anyway? Progressing toward _what_? They never said. Their mysteries and their secrets mixed together in that stuffy room.

Whenever the storm let up a little, I spent my days beneath the wooden canopy on the west side of the building, drawing. I stared into the rain, listened to the murmuring voices, imagined I was some place warm, like the desert. I'd take a month of sand and dry heat.

I thought about my mom. I thought about Tom. And, more recently, my thoughts kept turning back to Edward. In the days since we discussed how we felt about things, it had been better. The pain and pressure inside of my chest remained, but it wasn't as heavy, especially when I got to speak to Edward. I tried to remain rational about him. I was growing fond of him, but most likely because he was being nice to me. He made an attempt to know me. He related to me. And he helped me when I was down. But I couldn't allow myself any attachment to him.

Rosalie, my caseworker, came to visit me. She explained that she had a few homes in mind, said I'd make a good fit for them. She asked me if I was interested in meeting them. It was the most awkward, uncomfortable conversation, and an even harder decision. I felt like I'd be barging in on people's already-built lives, if I moved in with them. Why would anyone want me?

I sighed and glanced out into the murky yard. The browns and greys bled together, and when there was no color, I felt more alone. I twirled my hair around my index finger, thinking more about my mom. The memories were all I had left. I tried to keep them as strong, as clear, as possible.

Edward's friend Angela came to find me after a few hours. She told me that he was looking for me. "But he'll figure it out," she said with a mischievous smile. "He's a big boy."

"So what's the deal with you and him?" I asked, making my voice as nonchalant as possible. It was the first full sentence I had ever spoken to her. No. I wasn't obvious at all.

"Me and Edward?"

"Yeah."

"He's like my brother. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged and looked away, down at my book. "No reason, really. I was only curious."

"Edward is the only guy who defends me in this place. He's intellectual, and intelligent, and well-mannered. He learned it all himself, no help from his parents on that end. stupid jerks. I'm really going to miss him though. I've gotten used to the kid being around."

My heart fell into my lap. I dropped my bookmark and glanced over at her, unable to close my mouth. "Wait, what?"

Angela frowned. "Yeah. Didn't he tell you?"

"T-tell me what?"

"He was placed. He's leaving in two days. Some artistic type in Port Angeles."

I felt at loss for breath as my eyes left her face and roamed to the inked, cut up wood of the picnic table. "He's…he's leaving?"

"Mmhmm. It'll be good for him. He's so much better than this place, better than any of us."

My chest clenched harder. "But... he promised..." I whispered, blinking away the tears. Why was I even crying? I didn't know him. He had no connection to me. I shouldn't be crying.

"What did he promise?"

I quickly wiped my face and straightened myself out. I was being ridiculous. My hands closed the book, and I shoved it in my bag. "It's nothing," I answered, before I stood up. "It doesn't matter. I have to go."

The clouds were too thick to see the lightning coming. I made my way inside, shuddering as I passed through the halls, and prepared myself for the blow as I headed toward Edward's room. I didn't have long before they separated us to our opposite sides.

What I saw when I entered the room put the stamp on my sealed fate. He was _packing_. There was a trash bag on the bed, and more stuff in torn small boxes by his feet. My breath hitched, and Edward turned fast at the sound of it. "Bella," he said, dropping a shirt on the bed. "W-what are you doing here?"

"So it's true. You are leaving."

He frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets, and walked over to me. My trembling body was caught in the doorway, unable to move. "I was going to tell you tonight," he said softy. "I... didn't know how."

"How hard can it be? '_Bella, I'm leaving'_. There, that wasn't so tough."

"It _is _hard. I didn't-" Edward growled, tugging at his hair. "I didn't expect to make a friend here."

"Well I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience. How long have you known about this?"

His eyes narrowed into mine, and I could see the regret on his face. "A while," he said hoarsely.

I scoffed and stared at the ground, my fingers tugging at the knit fabric around my wrists. There was nothing I could do. "Well, um... I'm gonna go. Have fun with your new life. Good luck."

Edward's hand caught my elbow, and he stilled me when I tried to turn and walk away. "No, wait, Bella. Please. Don't leave."

"Just forget about the promise you made, Edward, really. I get it. You were just trying to be nice. Have a little sympathy for the stupid, clumsy, stuttering albino girl who lost her actress mother and her home, and now has to dwell umu-"

"Jesus, Bella, is _that _what you think of me?" he snapped, pulling me toward him. I glared up at him. He refused to look away. "If that's honestly the way you look at me, Bella, then this..." He turned and pulled the drawing I did of him off of the dresser and pushed it toward my face. "Then this isn't how you see me at all. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you do see me how _they_ do."

"I don't know what to think!" I jerked my arm away from his grasp, crossing it over my chest. I felt the familiar need to physically hold myself together. "And it doesn't even matter, anyway. You're leaving! You're going away. We're not going to see each other. So it was nice hanging out those few times, and thanks for letting me draw you. But it's really not a big deal. I get it. You have to go."

"I'm not leaving for another two days."

"What's two days gonna do?" I snipped at him. "Nothing."

"Two days is two more days I get to spend here, that I get to learn about you!" he shouted back. Our voices echoed down the hall, and caught the attention of a few loitering kids. "I don't know how to explain it, but I'd rather take two days for what it's worth, and spend my time with you, than to know inside that it was a waste of an opportunity. I'd never get those two days back if I didn't take advantage of it."

"It doesn't matter Edward!" I sobbed, and swiped the tears from my eyes immediately. I felt so foolish. "It doesn't matter, because two days means an opportunity to you, but it means more hurt for me. I looked at you like you could be a friend here. Someone I could turn to, just like you wanted to be. And two more days would be more pain from the inevitable. You're going to leave. We cannot change tha-"

"Please," he cut me off, his voice low and soft again. He looked so miserable. Not angry anymore. "Please, Bella. I didn't tell you because I was trying to avoid this. In such a short amount of time, you've become something important in my life. For whatever reason, I cannot figure out. I haven't had time to, or the opportunity to do so, though I want it bad. I knew it'd be hard to say goodbye. And, it may be selfish, but forgive me for not wanting to jump right into that type of pain again. I've had enough of it. All my life has been nothing but endless measures of heartache, and I found the tiniest bit of relief whenever I was around you. I wanted to help you, to save you from the demons that haunt me and everyone else in this place. Not give you more of them."

I buried my face in my hands. My body was beginning to crack under the pressure. The pain tightened, threatened to crush my ribs. Just like the day I lost my mom.

"Bella," he whispered, his hand finding my arm. The warmth flooded through me, and I almost embraced it. I wanted to. But, instead, I shrugged his hand off. He put it back again, stepping closer to me. "Please Bella. Don't pull away from me. I don't have anyone else here, either."

"It doesn't matter if you won't be back."

Edward sighed, again stepping closer. There was still a wide gap between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

We both had our walls up, regardless.

We ignored the kids around us, making kissing noises and annoying comments.

"Please," he begged again.

I wiped my face and looked up at him, blinking away the tears. "I'm not strong enough to become your friend, then lose you in the end, Edward. I've lost _everyone_ else. All my friends back at home. My family. My mom. Tom. _Everyone_. And, I want you to go. I want you to have the opportunity because I know you deserve it. Angela was right, you know? You deserve better, _are _better, than any of us here, and you need to understand that. I know it, and I don't even know you." I sighed, clearing my throat. "But I cannot let myself care about anyone who won't stick around. It hurts too much and I don't have the energy."

"Edward, just fuck the retarded girl real well and send her packing. Prove to her that she's unwanted. Even her own mother couldn't stick around and deal with that mess."

Before I could react, Edward released me and turned sharply to his left. He sprinted toward Aaron, pulled him off the wall he'd been leaning against, threw him to the ground, and began punching him. I rushed over and tried to pull Edward back, to make him stop before they were caught. Then Sheena rushed between us, in order to block my path to her boyfriend, and raised her fist. By the time we were broken up, there was blood in the hallway, gashes on the four of our faces, scuffmarks on the ground, and various marks along the walls.

We were all sent to get cleaned up in separate rooms, and then to individual counselors. After the thirty minute lecture, we were sent to bed. At just nine o'clock at night. Like ten year olds.

How tragic.

Ten minutes after my door was closed, there was tapping along the window at the foot of my bed. I made sure there was no one in the hall before I rushed over to it. I turned the handle, almost clunking Edward's head with the glass. "What are you doing here?" I hissed at him. "We're already in trouble. Don't make it worse!"

"Come with me."

"Come with you where?! It's the middle of the night!"

"And?"

"And it's still drizzling! And cold! And we can get busted!"

"So what?" he argued, reaching for me with his hands. The window opened out from the bottom.

"How am I supposed to get through there?"

Edward scoffed, "If my ass can fit through it, yours can too. Come on, hurry up."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Bella, please don't make me scale this wall and drag you out myself."

"That's kidnapping."

"Then come willingly."

I glared down at him, knowing I shouldn't do it. We could get caught. He could lose his placement. And it would hurt even more when he left.

He batted his lashes up at me. The fog from the cold air showed every time he exhaled. "Please Bella," he extended his hand up. "Please, come."

I bit my lip. _Don't do this Bella_, I tried to reason with myself. _It's going to hurt_.

Ignoring common sense, I slipped on my shoes, stuffed a pillow under my covers to make it look like I was curled under the covers. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep us from being discovered when the night staff did their rounds. I swung my legs over the edge of the crank-style window.

"Fine," I whispered into the cold. I felt myself slipping from the sill the moment I looked into his deep emerald eyes. "Catch me."

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

Thunder rolled above our heads, loud and demanding. It claimed the sky. Its power was everlasting.

With Bella's tiny hand in mine, I led her the fifteen blocks from the bus stop, seeking the white gates of my serenity. She never asked where we were going. Not when we escaped after bed check. Not when ran across the yard and risked being caught. Not while we waited at the bus stop. Not when we boarded the bus. Not even during the eighty minutes it took to get us there.

Sure, we talked about other things. But nothing of importance. She never showed fear, and I enjoyed that about her. There was a silent trust between us. An understanding.

"Okay," I said once we approached the gate. I took a swift glance at my watch. Eleven thirty. We had plenty of time. "I'm going to lift you over."

She squinted her eyes and peered through the opening, trying to see what she could in the dark. "Are we at the ocean? Is that what I hear?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. It's the Sound…Puget Sound. It leads to the ocean."

Her nerves finally showed. She began to pace frantically. "Don't worry," I tried to reassure as I pulled her gently back toward me. "I'm going to grab your hips. Put your foot here.... and this one here, okay? No where else. Then stay where you are, and I'll climb up beside you, and help you over and down."

"I think I should warn you, I am accident prone."

"It'll be alright."

Bella felt weightless in my hands as I lifted her up. Her tiny fingers clung to the metal, grasped where they could. She almost slipped, but I caught her without a problem. "Got me?" she asked nervously, panting into the foggy air.

"I've got you."

Keeping one hand on her back, I pulled myself up and flung my leg over, followed by the other. Then I slid my hands to her ribs and pulled her across, making sure she landed on the balls of her feet.

"Wow," she exhaled, squinting toward the darkened shore again. "What beach are we at?"

I took her hand and pulled her down the paved hill, across the rocky shore, all the way to the edge of the chilly surf. The intense lighting crashed overhead, creating sparks of orange and yellow. She moved an inch closer to me. "We're in Port Angeles, near Whiskey Creek Beach," I answered, happy to be exactly where I was. I took a glance at her pale complexion in what little light we had. She appeared so tiny and fragile. With that I let out a sigh, once I realized we were no longer on a heated bus. "I wish you would have worn a jacket Bella."

"I'm sorry. I didn't have time to grab one during my spontaneous jail break."

I slipped mine from my shoulders and wrapped it around hers. Then, I un-tucked her long hair from the collar.

Bella looked up at me, a little surprised, pulling the flannel tight around her. "Thank you."

"Do you want to step closer?"

"No." She stiffened her posture. "I'm fine where I'm at."

"It's only heat lightning. You won't be struck. Plus, it's too cold to stick our feet in right now."

"I have more worries than that."

"Bella," I studied her, carefully moving a few loose strands of hair from her lashes. "Why are you so afraid of the water?"

She shook her head and swallowed hard. The waves roared at us, singing their presence, and Bella took a few steps back. "I don't want to drown," she murmured quietly.

"You think I'd let you drown?"

She shrugged. "People drown all the time. Even the good swimmers can vanish. Plus, it's dark and cold and stormy, and no one knows where we are. There's a million things going against the idea of being close to the water."

I frowned and kicked the sand with my toe, hating myself for coming here when I knew she was afraid. "I'm sorry," I explained with a bitter frown. "I guess I didn't think when I brought you here. I only wanted to show you a part of me, so that you could get to know me better. I wanted you to enjoy it, maybe even see it differently. I hoped you would realize that you didn't have to be afraid."

The thunder grew more furious. It cursed me for my idiotic mistake. I didn't blame it.

Bella sighed. "I really appreciate you doing this," she clarified with a tender smile. "For bringing me here. Really. It... felt good to be free and rebellious for once. To not have to be told what to do or how to act or what to say or how to feel... It, this..." she exhaled and cleared her throat, shifting from foot to foot," ...you.., and, um, the risk of getting caught... It's all worth it."

"I agree."

She smiled up at the sky.

As the night moved on, the surf crept closer. We moved to a safe distance and took a seat beside each other, arms wrapped our legs. We weren't too far from a flickering lamp post that hung above the dock to our left. I turned and stole a brief glance at the mysterious girl who sat beside me. She shivered again.

"Are you still cold?"

As Bella's lip quivered, she gave a fast nod. "Yeah," she murmured as she unconsciously leaned toward the crook of my arm. "But I'm more n-nervous than c-cold."

My heart raced at the proximity of our bodies, and the selfish part of me said it wasn't enough. I licked my lips, feeling the warmth of her body heat against my ribs. I couldn't help but submit to the temptation of touching her. It pulled at me with every passing second. But, I also wanted her to be comfortable. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Um... Would you mind if I put my arm around you? I don't like you shivering like that."

She shook her head, giving a tiny smile and her permission. But she wouldn't look at me. The adorable pink color I could barely see in the night, but had built into my memory, flushed across her ivory skin. She covered her face quickly, even though it was dark. She knew I was looking at her.

"Why are you nervous?" I whispered as my eyes lingered helplessly on the side of her face. Her skin was milk. Flawless and ivory with a special hint of rose across her cheeks. It was then, in that moment, that I really took a second to appreciate her for being there, for sharing this moment with me. No one else would, not that I'd bring anyone else here, or desire to. In the glowing moonlight, Bella had become the most beautiful person I would ever lay eyes on.

Without thought, my fingers caressed her side, delicate and slow. I clutched the fabric that covered her skin. The wind blew hard, and she inched closer after another glimmer of lightning and roll of thunder. Then, to my relief, she cast her eyes upon mine. "Because this is new?" she finally replied. I grinned back at her, as the urge to caress the skin of her bottom lip took hold. "It's new for me as well."

Bella's honey-caramel eyes closed slowly. She let out a heavy sigh, the corners of her lips casting down. "I'm glad you've found a home, Edward. Really. And I feel selfish for even bringing this up, but I can't help it. It sucks that you're leaving the center. It would have been great to have had the chance to get to know you."

My heart tugged at her words, and the reality that came with them. I understood what she meant, how she felt. I was there too. "But I'm here now," I offered simply, not having any other answer to give. The ache in my chest grew sharper.

"It wouldn't make sense though, to develop a friendship, only for you to vanish in two days," she argued. "It wouldn't be healthy. We have enough to deal with and... it'd make everything more complicated." She began to move away, but, selfishly, I pulled gently her back to me. I didn't want her to be more than an inch from my side.

And I couldn't figure out why, in such little time, I felt the way I did.

Bella exhaled in defeat, running her fingers through her hair a few times. I could tell she had become sad and frustrated. I was getting there myself, but I quickly shrugged the feelings off, reminding myself of the reason I had brought her here. So that we could stop thinking.

"Do you...do you think we could just enjoy the night and not worry about whatever is coming?" I suggested. "See, um, I read this book once that mentioned that the most perfect night a person could share was with a perfect stranger and few words. Granted, you're not necessarily a stranger to me anymore. But perfect isn't too far fetched in my opinion, and I really enjoy your company. ...What do you say?"

She stared out into the ocean, the moonlight's reflection sparkling in her eyes. "Okay, Edward."

~*~

We sat there for the longest time, my arm wrapped around her tiny body, and allowed the storm and waves do most of the talking for us.

I wanted to learn so much about her. Everything that was a favorite of hers. I wanted to know how she grew up. Who her best friend was. If she slept with a night light. I wanted to know what made her laugh, how she looked when she first woke up, what her most memorable Christmas was...

The longer I sat there, the more I wanted to uncover the mystery surrounding her. I wondered if she only listened to a specific genre of music. I wondered if she participated in school plays. if she enjoyed sports, what kind of toothpaste she used. I thought about why she was so afraid of drowning, and how her mother could have been feeling on that day that she took her own life and left Bella alone in this world. The list grew longer and more detailed.

But most of all, I just wondered what was on her mind.

"What?" Bella said eventually, pulling me from my thoughts. A tiny smile lifted her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I was... just wondering what you were thinking about."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"I was..." she hesitated, exhaling slowly, "...thinking…about my mom."

"What about her?"

"All sorts of things. If her soul is somewhere. If she can see me, or hear me. If she... thinks about me at all..."

"I'm sure she can, and she does. She'd be crazy not to."

Bella's head dropped, and she fiddled with the sleeves to my jacket, pulling them over her fingers. "She'd be crazy to do a lot of things..." She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty midnight breeze from the ocean. "If you could be any place in the world right now, where would you be?"

"Besides here?"

"Yeah."

"Uhm... the pool at my old school, I guess," I answered simply. "How about you?"

Bella licked her lips, keeping her eyes closed. "In my mom's arms," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugged her frame tight. "I'd give anything to smell her right now," she continued solemnly. "Every night, around this time, she'd... come into my room, crawl in bed with me. She'd pull me into her arms, wrap them all the way around me, and bury her face in my hair. Sometimes she'd hum me a song, and others she'd tell me how her day had gone... and then she'd whisper as I drifted to sleep, '_I love you and wrap you in stars..._.'."

Bella's tears overflowed and she gasped, before swiping her pain away. "I can't sleep there. At Volturi. I know it probably sounds juvenile but... I'm so used to being held. And hugged. And touched. My mom, she... sh-she was very affectionate, always touched me and reminded me she loved me, and I don't get that here, from _anyone_. There's no touching. There's no hugging. I can't smell her anymore, or talk to her, or feel her. I look in the mirror, or look down at my uncovered hands, and I see a resemblance to her, but not the full image. And then I hate myself for not measuring up to her. I just... I miss her so much."

She gasped, rubbing the outside of her throat with her pale fingers. "Edward, I'd give anything I ever owned to have her hold me and rock me to sleep. For just a few hours... Just so I wouldn't... have nightmares about her, or see her as anything but my beautiful mom who loved me. I just... I wish she could be here and hold me."

Without so much as a single thought, I turned to my right, carefully lifted Bella in my arms, and pulled her tense, quivering body into my lap. She stayed there, locked tight and sobbing, clutching her gloves and my jacket. "I'm so sorry," she cried, as she kept her head tucked down, "I just hate this. I hate all of it! I want her back! I want her back now, damn it!"

"I know you do," I whispered into her hair. I didn't know if it was the cold breeze swirling around us, or the thunder that still rolled above, but every ounce of pain she was feeling seemed to surge right through me as I held her. I didn't have anyone as close to me as she was with her mom, and I didn't know whether to be thankful for that or not. Would it be harder to lose someone that actually loved you? Did I have it easier, without my mom hugging me and telling me those things? I wasn't so sure anymore.

"I just want her to hold me," Bella whimpered desperately. Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw. I frowned and squeezed her tight. "I feel so alone. I'm so tired all the time. I miss her so much. I don't have anyone now. I have no one to tuck my hair behind my ears, or tell me they love me... or _wrap me in stars_..." She buried her face into her folded knees, even as she leaned deeper into my chest. "I just want to sleep," she whispered. "That's all I want."

I pressed my nose into her hair, smelled the strawberries and cinnamon, and caressed her carefully. "I'll hold you, Bella," I whispered into her ear.

She trembled, shaking her head, and wiped her eyes again, "No. I ca-can't ask you to do that."

"I want to." She shook her head again, but I stopped her. "Bella, really. I want to. I may not have lost someone who cares for me the way you did, but I know what you're going through. Please. Please let me help you. Because it physically hurts me to see you in this much pain... I... I mean, my chest, everything... Let me soothe you. It's more than a want, really," I tried to explain as my body clenched tighter. "I _have _to do this."

Hands shaking, she finally lifted her head from her knees and turned her eyes to look at me. She seemed exhausted, worn-out. She didn't want to think anymore, about anything. I knew that with a single glance. "Let me help you," I whispered again. "Let me be here for you."

Swallowing hard, she nodded as slowly as possible. Her eyes were still very cautious, questioning her decision. "It might hurt to let you, Edward. It might... hurt if I realize you're not her and she's never coming back. It might hurt if..." She swallowed again, trying to fully form her thoughts. "It might hurt when you let go," she finished, her voice cracking.

I shook my head, brushing the hair behind her ears. "Then I won't."

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and moved off of my lap into the sand to my right side. She grasped my hands in her tiny, cold ones, wrapping them around her waist. Then she lay down on her left side with me behind her, my chest pressed tightly to her back. "I'm so tired, Edward," she whimpered.

"Shhh. I have you," I whispered close to her ear. "Just rest now."

Keeping my right arm over her so I could hold her against me and protect her from any pain she'd been dealt, I moved my left beneath her head as a pillow. I didn't want her to get sand on her face. My body shook as the current between us intensified, but I didn't falter, didn't release her for one second. I wouldn't allow myself to think about anything, and made sure she didn't either.

After all, this wasn't about us or whatever was developing between us. This was about her, and what she needed. That's what mattered the most to me.

I didn't care about myself, or how cold it was. I kept her body as close to mine as possible, and prayed the heat between us and my jacket covering her would be enough to keep her warm. Bella needed that security. She needed the comfort, the feeling that someone in the universe wanted her safe and sound, just like her mother used to. She needed someone to remind her that life wasn't over, if only for one night. That way she could rest without worry. I never wanted anything more in my life than to be that person for her.

Her sobs diminished as time slipped by. The lightning slowed, but the thunder roared on and the sea crashed continually in the distance. I inhaled her scent again, holding her to me tightly, reassuringly. I kept my eye on my watch so I could make sure we left in time to make it back before getting caught.

Bella sniffled a while longer before she finally fell asleep. And once I knew she'd drifted into a safer place, to a more peaceful world with her mother's hand in hers, I kissed the back of her neck where her hair lay, like her mother used to. I couldn't say the exact same words her mother did, even if I would mean them one day. But even in her slumber, I felt she needed to hear something, some words of comfort. So I whispered as soft as possible, "I'll hold you while the world falls away ...pretty girl."

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)  
**Reviews are better than two more days with Edward.**


	8. CH 7: Webbing A Friendship

"_A thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it."_  
~ Zora Neale Hurston

** A/N: I am aware that some/most/all of you did not receive an email update with the chapter. I'm not sure what is going on with it...

* * *

**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Seven : Webbing A Friendship.  
**Life is unpredictable, as Edward & Bella learn firsthand when distance gives a different perspective on things.  
NOTE: 3 quick announcements at the bottom of the chapter.

* * *

_Special Shout-Out's__:  
_-- To **my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/facebookers/lexiconers**.... I realize how much I suck, posting this so late. Please know that things are going to come up, but that I think of my stories every day. I can no longer guarantee that every Monday, there will be an update. But I thank you immensely for being so faithful & patient with me, and for returning to read more when they come up. (10 shy of 300 reviews for the last chapter alone. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!)  
-- To **my beta Caryn (Jazz Girl)**... thanks for your patience with me, and for all of your help during the writer's block. ILYRRRRRRFH. ;)  
-- To **Aura (Rebecca's Mom), **whom has become my picture and detail "go to" girl. I fucking love you & am eternally in your debt and you're not allowed to argue w/me on that! So there. :)  
_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)

* * *

_**  
" I feel the beating of your heart. I see the shadows of your face.  
Just know that wherever you are... Yeah, I miss you.  
And I wish you were here.  
I miss the years that were erased. I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face.  
I miss all the little things... I never thought that they'd mean everything to me.  
Yeah, I miss you. And I wish you were here.  
So far away from where you are. These miles have torn us world's apart.  
And I miss you ... Yeah, I miss you... And I wish you were here."  
~ Lifehouse, "From Where You Are"  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven : Webbing A Friendship**

**EdwardPOV **

I lay the side of my forehead against the cool glass and watched rays of the sun diminish into night across the dirty windshield. Five interstates. We took five separate interstates to reach my new home. The only time I spoke was on the 104, and after that, I clutched my brand new notebook in my lap and tried to sleep away the miles of endless road.

Port Angeles, the tilted sign surrounded by trees read. I was obviously familiar with the beach, but not on this side of town. It was much nicer here. The yards became less cluttered, the outside furniture was more scarce. We wound around hills and caves, crossed a rickety bridge, drove over a steep hill, and took a long, gravel road leading to a large, two-story house. As soon as Renee turned off the ignition and silenced her rickety car, I could hear the faint sound of dirt bikes in the distance.

I stood unmoving as I stared up at the brilliant architecture, the meticulous rustic woodwork, the long vertical windows, the lush forest surrounding in one direction and the surf off in the near distance. From the outside looking in, I could see the exposed beams of the roof and along the walls. There were lights all around the property, shining the browns into golden tones in the night. It looked like something out of a luxury homes magazine. Not what most would consider a foster home.

None of this made any sense.

"Well," Renee exhaled as she opened the door before I got a chance to, "what do you think?"

"I... am not sure what to say." I watched a hawk sore over us and land in a tall tree. This wasn't real. I had to be dreaming.

People like me did not belong in places like this.

The jagged, hand-crafted front door opened and Billy Black wheeled himself out, followed by a dark man with a blazing smile and long dreads. "Edward," Billy chuckled before displaying a proud grin, "welcome! I'm so happy you're here! How was the drive, Renee?"

"It wasn't bad," Renee said, opening her truck and reaching to help me with my things. But I gathered them before she could touch anything. I knew she was only trying to help, but it was mine, all I had. I didn't like anyone touching my stuff. She ignored it and carried on. "A bit of traffic on the 104, but that allowed Edward and I to have a conversation, so you're not going to hear any complaints on my end."

"Ahh, well that's good." The man wheeled Billy down the beautiful stone sidewalk and to the left, where we were parked. "Edward, this is Laurent, my caretaker. He comes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes Fridays to help me out around the house. Laurent, I'd like you to meet Edward Cullen."

Laurent extended his hand, and I shook it quickly. "Nice to meet you," I said, my voice sounding a little rough.

"Pleasure, sir."

I lifted my eyebrow and pulled my hand back swiftly. Sir?

"Renee, come on in, you must be tired! You're welcome to hang out for the night, or we can put on a pot of coffee while Edward gets settled and discuss anything necessary."

"Coffee would be great, Billy. Thank you."

Entering the Black household could only be described as leaving a shack and entering a palace. The floor plan was open, wide enough for Billy's chair to get around easily. Everything was wooden; the floors, the walls and the ceilings. Everything had a different texture, a slightly different tone, but somehow it all blended together seamlessly. I felt overwhelmed and out of place the minute I walked in the door, and hung back while everyone made their way through the giant living room toward the kitchen, which overlooked a creek in three directions.

"Edward?" Renee called for me. She looked back and noticed I wasn't following. "Everything alright?"

I cleared my throat but couldn't respond, so I nodded quickly.

Laurent grinned and made sure not to attempt to grab my bags. I could tell he was experienced with foster kids, and somehow, that was slightly comforting. "Come on sir, I'll show you to your room. It's upstairs here, to the left. You can take the elevator here if you'd like."

"That's okay, stairs are fine," I replied, following him up. "And my name is Edward. Not sir."

"Very well, Edward."

My stomach twisted in more knots as I made my way back into the kitchen an hour later. I thought about not coming back down at all, but knew it'd be inconsiderate if I didn't. Billy's smile widened, as did Renee's, as I inched closer to the counter nearest to me and furthest from them. No one made an extra effort to bring me into the conversation like they did at The Volt, and I was thankful for that. I didn't want to discuss anything. It was awkward enough being in someone else's house.

"Edward, this home is yours," Billy explained as he slid the sugar bowl over to Renee. "Anything you want to eat, drink, or use, you go for it. You don't have to ask for permission for anything here. There's an extra car in the garage, which you and my two boys will share. But it seems to work well for them. I have an old truck, which I highly doubt you'd want to drive, but it's also there if you need it."

He continued telling me what I needed to know about life in the Black household. "There's a list on the fridge, make sure to write down anything you may need or want, personal or otherwise. School starts up for you in two weeks, which will give you plenty of time to settle in. There are four bedrooms counting yours, and four bathrooms, though one of those is only a half-bath. The property extends eleven acres in all directions, including the coast. Living room is to your left. Towels are next to your shower, in the cabinet on the right. You will only have to share that shower with one of the boys. And there is an endless supply of movies, instruments, and video games for you to waste your brain cells on."

He grinned and took a breath. "Jacob and Jasper will be back shortly. They're all diddly-dobbling with the toys. The only thing I ask is that you pitch in around here when needed, keep the car full of gas at all times, and you don't do any high jumps on the dirt bikes or four -wheelers until you're more experienced. Trust me, we've all learned that lesson. Oh, and speaking of which, whenever you have time, there's a gift for you waiting in the garage. It's down the south hall, far end door."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and backed away slowly. "Thank you, uh, sir."

"No sir. You can call me Billy if you'd like."

I didn't bother to go look in the garage yet. The only thing I wanted was to go into the room they designated as my own, and pray that I didn't fuck anything up.

Somehow, I already knew I would.

* * *

**BellaPOV**

I curled into myself on the far end of the couch, threw my shirt over my knees, adjusted the gloves around my hands, and sighed. I had nothing to do. Again.

Rosalie would arrive shortly to talk to me, said she needed to ask me a few questions, but until then, there really wasn't anyone to speak with. Demetri would glance at me more, whenever he walked by. I tried to say things with my eyes, apologize still. He was one of the few nice people here besides Edward and Angela, and I had let him down. I had turned into a freak, right in front of his eyes, and probably scared the living shit out of him.

I couldn't understand why I was the way I was. Not to long ago, I wasn't this person at all. I was happy once, I believed. Happy, and obviously delusional. I should have seen the signs. Shouldn't have gotten angry or turned away from my mom's tears. Maybe then I could have saved her. And myself.

Edward's friend Angela waved nonchalantly from the pool table, so I forced a grim smile in her direction. I wasn't sure if I resented her for being so cheerful, or if I resented myself for not being able to be the same. _Bella, just because things become hard, doesn't mean you should give up, _my counselor had said during our last session._ You're still here. You're still breathing. You have a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach. That's a start to regaining your life. And that's what we want. For you to go on, for you to live the life you were meant to live. It's never too late to start. I hope you grasp that._

What didn't they get? My life revolved around my mom. She was my reason. To take her away from me, so suddenly... I cannot live the life I once knew. That life is over. I died in that room with her. I dissolved in her arms, right along with her fading heartbeat.

Watching the other kids laughing and playing games, I sat in silence and waited for things that wouldn't happen. For my mother to come back. For Tom to call. To hear from one of my friends back home. For Rosalie to work some miracle and get me out of here.

I tried not to think about him. The boy who possessed my every breath. The one who stole the last string of my sanity when he held me and then abruptly left. It hurt too much to think about his footsteps fading while I stayed behind, scars open and bleeding on the floor. I knew why he had to go. If he stayed, he'd never heal, and I wanted that for him. I didn't want to ruin his life. I wished I could see him, once more, and tell him I was proud of him for being strong. For trying. For leaving.

The first few days after he left were almost worse than when I first lost my mom. Sometimes, I woke up swearing I heard his fingertips tapping on the window. I had convinced myself that maybe he'd come back and we'd hang out for a while, talk about nothing and sit in silence in the basement. Now and then, I would glance at a new kid roaming the halls, or a visitor entering the yard, and swear up and down it was him. I hated myself for wishing he'd come, for hoping he'd stay and be as miserable as I was, for just the sake of me. I was being selfish and knew that wasn't fair. He deserved a chance. After all, we barely knew each other.

Right?

I shut my eyes and inhaled, feeling the shattered glass feeling every time I swallowed. I tried to remember the warmth and the calm that came over me when he held me six nights ago on the beach. I _slept_. For three hours, I actually fell asleep. And I didn't have nightmares about my mom or death or explosions or screaming or anything else. I just slept. And I'd always be thankful to him for being able to do that for me.

But, somehow, I also hated him, for being able to do that and then take it away. Because that meant he held a missing link to my existence.

~*~

Rosalie slid a folder over to me and refilled my Styrofoam cup with Pepsi from a two-liter bottle, "Bella, are you sure you don't want to go out to eat? There's a nice restu-"

"No, I'm fine," I cut her off as I looked through my reports. "Besides I don't have any money and I don't want your charity." She sighed and didn't say another word as I glanced at pictures of a life I once knew, then quickly flipped them over before my mother's smile scarred me more. "Why did you want to meet?"

Rosalie folded her hands and straightened her back. "I wanted to discuss some things with you today."

"Such as?"

"There's a lady, Kate Kapochi. She's a manager at a popular restaurant here in East Seattle. She has three girls, all adopted. They were fosters once too. Anyway, a few months back, she put in a call to me and asked if we had anyone that met her requirements. Someone who has integrity, who is smart, has character and will. Must be female because there's no man in the house. We discussed a few options. But for some reason, your name kept coming back to me."

Rosalie paused and lifted her hands to stop me from objecting, like she knew I would. "Now, before you get all huffy, I didn't give her your name or tell her anything about you, because I wanted to discuss it with you first. There's no sense in getting anyone's hopes up this early in the game. But Bella, she's a really sweet lady. Mid-forties. Her daughters are all around your age. We could put you in as a temporary placement for now, see how you like it and adjust. There's good schools in the neighborhood."

She drummed her fingernails on the metal table and smiled. "Oh Bella, you should _see _the neighborhood. It looks like something out of a _Brady Bunch Special_, you know, where all the houses line the street and are the same size with same shudders? It's very quaint. So my question to you is, would you be interested in giving it a chance? I could set up a phone meeting if you'd be more comfortable with that, and we could go from there. I know how you tend to shy away from people at first..." she said, letting her voice trail off.

Rosalie kept talking, but I tuned out, staring at the chipped black polish on my thumbnail. Everyone I loved was gone. Edward went away, too. Demetri didn't talk to me anymore. Angela didn't bother to try and speak much after Edward left. There really wasn't anything for me here, unless I considered my daily run-in with Sheena and her grimy friends. I rubbed the fresh bruise on the back of my neck.

"H-How long would it take?" I cut her off, and she blinked at me. "For me to move in?"

"Maybe a week or two?" she answered, a question rather than a statement. She wasn't sure. "These things can get hairy if they're not done correctly."

"I'll do it," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. "There's no need for phone conversations. Any place has got to be better than this shithole."

Rosalie's eyebrow cocked. She'd never heard me speak like that. "I sense that you're angry today."

I glared at the side of her head. I had nothing. What was there to be angry about?

She sighed and stood up, collecting her things and shoving them in her briefcase. "I'll do what I can do. Expect a phone call from me tomorrow, three o'clock at the latest. We'll run over the options then." She began to walk away, but then turned and looked back at me. "Bella?"

I didn't speak.

She smiled softly, "It gets easier."

I stared at Rosalie's large eyes and picked at a blister on my finger. I wanted to believe her as my eyes roamed her fancy clothes and soft hair and image of a perfect life. I wanted to know the things she knew about the system, that way I wouldn't feel so hopeless. But that was stolen from me, along with my dignity, every time Sheena's fist hit my skin.

I needed to figure out how to toughen up and pull myself together. I shouldn't rely on anyone else.

I had to become my own strength.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

"Knock knock." Jasper entered from across the hall and dropped on the side of my bed, making a mess of the word I was writing. "What's up?"

I tried to fix the error, growling internally at him for causing it. "Nothing."

"Writing another letter to your mom?"

I shook my head again. "No. To my friend, Bella."

"_Bella_," Jasper repeated, and I smiled down to my paper. "That's a pretty name for a girl."

"Yes, it is."

"She hot?"

"Yes."

"Thought so," he grinned. "So," he said as he stood and pulled a pack of nearly smashed Camel's from his jeans pocket, "I think it's about time we blow this joint. Show you the ropes."

"What do you mean?" I asked solemnly.

"You're coming out tonight. No exceptions. It's been almost a week, which means plenty of time for you to get settled in. Jake's picked up the keg from John, and the bonfire starts at nine out on the beach. A shower, some jeans, nice t-shirt, and a pack of condoms, and you'll be good to go."

"I don't really feel like g-"

"Fuck that, you're going," Jasper cut me off. He walked over to me and tossed the dirt bike gloves I'd yet to use on top of my letter, which forced me to stop writing altogether. "You'll have plenty of time to write that shit and sulk tomorrow. But we want you to chill with us, and it'll be good for you to get out of this room. Billy knows we're heading out there. He doesn't think there's gonna be alcohol, of course. But, if you can manage to come home with a lick of common sense and don't break anything valuable, it'll be straight. We're ridin' the bikes out there."

I sighed and stared down at the velcro straps of the gloves. "I've never ridden a bike before."

"Well, you're not riding dirty on the back of mine. I don't dig other men's ballsacks pressed against my shit. But I'll show you how to handle yours if you get your ass movin'."

I glared at him and his insistence. The dude seemed to have it all, a crystal ball in his polished hands. On the outside, Jasper seemed like your average misplaced badass that girls enjoyed and other boys wanted to be. Hard to believe his parents were meth addicts and out of his life by the time he was three. I wasn't sure what to make of him.

He huffed and stared right back at me, stubborn as a mule. "Well?" When I didn't respond, he used friendly threats. "Don't make me call for reinforcements," he teased with a thick southern accent and a crooked grin. "I know plenty of people that will haul your ass out there, if I can't do it myself. Which I probably fucking can."

~*~

Jasper growled in frustration when we entered the garage just after ten o'clock. "I forgot I have to fucking put gas in it. Now all my shit's gonna smell like it." I stared blankly at him as he loaded both his black and silver bike and my own with gasoline, then tossed me the keys. "Come on, we have to cut this lesson short. We're late."

I pushed my bike after him, and the knots tightened in my stomach. I was afraid I'd wreck it and cost Billy money. I was afraid I'd break my neck. I was afraid I'd be made fun of. I was afraid, period, but, I'd never admit it. I didn't want to look like a pussy in my new home.

The lesson consisted of him hopping on his bike, showing me where the break, clutch, and gas was, then waiting impatiently while I kick-started my own and tried to steady the wobbling, vibrating machine. On the first try, I almost pissed my pants when I skid the tires and nearly fell over. Jasper laughed his ass off and moved forward to meet me at my new starting point. "It's a beast," he chuckled. "You handlin' your business?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," I muttered. Before I could blink, he took off, and I had to struggle to catch up to him.

The crisp air chilled my bones as the bike sped down the rocky path, toward the coast. Jasper weaved in and out of the trees, while I stayed on the main course, praying and hoping that I would not die. I tried to pick up some of his techniques, the way he managed the ride, but it felt impossible to learn all at once. I quickly decided to stick with the basics, hit the brakes when I needed too, and kept breathing.

In my head, I imagined the get-together to be minimal. But it seemed like everyone Jasper and Jacob knew was down at the beach, surrounding a giant bonfire. There were fifteen trucks pulled up, with speakers blasting out the latest songs. My nerves spiked when we parked the bikes. Their friends stared at me as Jasper made his way over. I could see them questioning, wondering, debating. Honestly, all I wanted was to hop back on the bike, turn around, and go back to hide in my room. Simply vanish.

"Don't worry about it." Jasper saw the fear in my eyes as he came around the side of the bike. "It'll be fine."

"I don't know any of these people," I muttered.

"You don't know me either," he stated as he stuck one cigarette in his mouth and another behind his right ear, "but isn't that the fucking point?"

I shrugged.

Jasper led me over to the first circle, a group of around forty people, filled with both male and female students, though there seemed to be twice as many girls as guys. I listened as the music got louder, and the people shouted over it. Random conversations about past parties, school events, the latest gossip. I had no idea what anyone was talking about, and found myself constantly kicking the sand around or staring off into the ocean. People bumped into me, and Jasper did his best to introduce me, but it seemed like all the questions were repetitive. Who was I, where did I come from, how did I like the Blacks, if I had a girlfriend, where my folks were. I didn't want to explain my life to these strangers anymore than I wanted to explain it to my counselors. The first few times, I answered briefly, but then I just ignored them.

I noticed Billy's son, Jacob Black, running toward us from the beach, with three girls under his arms. The boy was fifteen, and looked like an Abercrombie model, with his short black hair, perfect, bright teeth, chiseled body, tight (and currently soaked) shirt... Not to mention his charming attitude and calm voice. Jacob and Jasper seemed like water and oil; couldn't be more different. Jake was preppy. Jasper was an outsider. Jake was quiet around the house. Jasper cursed a lot and spoke his mind. Jake loved the outdoors, sat for hours in the woods with a shotgun. Jasper loved bikes, and engine parts, and reading old books about the Civil War and Vietnam.

But they were close. It didn't take long to recognize how they looked out after each other. How they defended each other. How they encouraged, and understood, and loved without pushing. It made me happy to see that for once in my life. I never had any siblings. I wasn't sure what to do with them. How do you become close to someone, and care for them, and be friends with them, when you don't know anything about them? Would I ever know? Does anyone ever _truly _know anything about anyone? There are people that have been married for years, and sleep in separate bedrooms, and with the morning coffee conversation aside, they barely even speak to one another. Day in, day out, we're strangers, even to ourselves.

So how are we supposed to love anyone, or let anyone love us? The task seemed impossible.

~*~

I hadn't realized I'd been spacing off, until a strong arm was thrown over my shoulder and a hand patted my chest. "Hey man," Jacob chuckled as a few girls surrounded us, "what are you doing? Come on, join the party. Get to know some people."

"I was thinking about my friend," I muttered incoherently. I blinked, refocusing.

"That Bella girl?" he asked. Jacob learned about Bella the first night I was there. He approached me before Jasper did, when I wrote my second letter to her. Now I had six of them, and hadn't sent one.

"Yeah."

"Maybe we can come up with a plan, bust the girl out every once in a while. Bring her here for a night?"

"Yeah, right. Billy would kill us and The Volturi Center would have the police after me."

"Shit, Dad won't care. Trust me," he laughed. "He won't see us. He never does." I shook my head, but he cut me off. "We'll be careful. You won't get caught." He winked before running off to chase a dark-haired Latina girl with a curvaceous body and a pretty laugh. She screamed when he scooped her up and spun her around in the sand. I laughed as I watched them, the rush of joy unfamiliar, but it diminished as soon as it came. Shuffling my feet, I stared down at the sand, and prayed that one day I'd heal.

As I moved toward the shore, away from the laughter of the crowd, I allowed the water to sweep my thoughts away again. I thought about my mother. I thought about my father. And I thought about Bella. Shy, tiny, artistic, beautiful, vulnerable Bella. Wrapped in my arms on this very beach, but a few miles away. The faint sound of her breathing as she relaxed. The smell of her skin.

"Excuse me? Um... Edward?" A short girl with creamy bronzed skin and jet-black hair called out to me. She was bundled in a white jacket with her arms folded across her chest. Her brown boots, which covered the bottom of her jeans, moved toward me. She gave a polite smile when our eyes met. "I thought that was you. Your brother is looking for you." I lifted my eyebrow in question, so she answered, "Jasper."

"He's not my brother," I quickly corrected her as I shook the hand she extended out to me.

"I thought ya'll lived together?"

"Yeah, bu-"

"I'm sorry. I thought -- Isn't he your, um, foster family?" she questioned.

"I don't know _what _he is... I... I-I mean..." I became flustered and frustrated. "I am an only child," I sneered at her. "I have no family."

She kept her smile, somewhat satisfied that she could get an honest reaction out of me. She stepped even closer and a hint of Downey and fresh apples came my way. "My name is Naomi."

"You already have my name," I shrugged, and kicked the sand around my feet, cursing myself for being such a dick. The girl was being kind to me and I should be kind back. "But it's nice to meet you anyway."

She studied me for a moment. I turned away from her eyes. "Likewise," she spoke softly.

~*~

The party dwindled down after three in the morning. Everyone was wasted by then. Jasper talked me into 'popping my cherry' and having a few drinks, which I did after deciding that I was sick of being alone all of the time. Some of their friends turned out to be decent. Others were total asses, like the few guys who claimed territory, that I was on their reservation, or that their girl was talking about me. Jacob and Jasper quickly told them to shut the fuck up. After we cleaned the trash up that everyone left to us, they helped me kick-start my bike..

"Hey man," Jasper chuckled as a blonde girl straddled the back of his, "can Naomi ride with you? These three are coming back with us, and we've only got three bikes."

I hesitated, and Naomi hesitated too, keeping her distance from me. She was sweet, but she didn't know me. I didn't blame her for worrying. I looked like a homeless person.

"Come on," Jasper chuckled. "You're not going to make her walk are you?"

Swallowing thickly, I lifted the safety helmet from the back of the bike, and Naomi slowly walked over and took it from me. We didn't speak on the way back to Billy's. I was sure she'd rather ride with anyone else, anyone with more experience. It felt awkward, having her arms around me, feeling her body pressed against the back of mine. I wasn't used to it. I wasn't used to touching anyone at all, aside from Bella on the beach and when I hugged her goodbye before I left The Volt. But this girl wasn't Bella... and that made me miss her more.

On the way up the rocky hill, I thought about how we said goodbye. I could see Bella standing in the corner of the room I shared with all of the boys, a permanent frown on her face. Her eyes were cast down to the floor. I didn't know what to say to her, as I threw my backpack over my shoulder. I didn't know how to say goodbye, didn't understand why the thought of that was painful. With heavy feet, I walked toward her and didn't stop until there was only a single foot of space between our bodies. Her chest rose and fell, and I swore I heard her sniffling.

I wanted to cradle her. I wanted to press my lips to her forehead and remind her how strong she was. Thank her for being such a wonderful new friend -- my only real friend -- and for putting a smile on my face. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how she deserved the world, how much I'd think about her when I walked out that door. But, instead, she fell against my chest and I threw my arms around her, and we didn't look at each other, and we didn't say any thing at all. The day before, we had made promises to write, to stay in touch. Everything left didn't need words. We couldn't fight the inevitable, and we didn't have the energy to sacrifice for it. I held her for as long as I could manage, until Renee came in and told me we were behind schedule. Bella's eyes cast up to mine very briefly, and when she blinked, a tear fell down her face. Even with the distance, I could taste the salt of that single tear. Sighing, I wiped it away with my fingers.

And then she was left in that room. And I was gone.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there?"

I turned my head and noticed Naomi standing in the door frame of my bedroom. Loud bangs and laughter, followed by whispering and shushing, came from down and across the hall. I had no doubt in my mind why they wanted wanted the girls to come over. But I'd never been exposed to anything like that before, so I hid away as soon as I could.

"A friend," I answered shortly. "What are you doing in here?"

She let herself in and closed the door behind her, then trudged over to where I sat on the edge of my bed, "Well... they'll probably be _busy _for a while, and I'd rather not be tormented by being around it. So I thought I'd hang in here with you instead, if that's all right?"

I studied her flirtatious eyes, the way she rocked from heel to toe, itching to get closer. It made my heart speed up in a weird way. "I'm not doing anything," I answered with a shrug. "You'll probably be bored."

She sat beside me, handed me the extra cup of beer she held, and played with the ring on her index finger. Her smile aimed at the ground. "I'm okay with bored."

I shrugged and crossed my arms.

Stale air lingered in my room while the slight sound of shuffling and girls giggling echoed down the hall. For a second, I wondered what it'd be like, to be as free as Jacob and Jasper. They seemed careless. As if they were untouchable. I wanted to be like that. For just one day, to feel the wind through my fingers, and not have to worry about any other thing or any other person. I wanted to think for myself, care for myself, do what I wanted without worrying about consequences.

I hated myself for the control I forced on myself.

"You have a girlfriend, don't you?"

I chuckled uncomfortably and re-situated myself. "Why would you think that?"

"The way you're sitting... acting... You're all guarded. Single boys aren't this guarded..." Her smile grew more flirtatious, "Especially _sixteen _year-old single boys."

"I don't know you," I argued gently. My frown came back. "Anyone. That doesn't necessarily put me at ease here."

Naomi sighed heavily. "It's okay if you do. I just... would like to know."

"Why do you want to know?"

She slid an inch closer to me and turned, her full pink lips parted and flawless bronzed complexion warm and inviting. Her hand covered my wrist, and she pulled it down and moved even closer to me, "…because I like you..."

* * *

**BellaPOV**

I shot out of the bed and clutched my chest, gasping for air. My lungs burned. My throat strained. Shaking, I crept from the bed as quietly as I could manage and crawled into the girls' bathroom. This was the third night it happened. The third night I woke up in panic, knowing that something was changing and I had no control over it.

Whimpering, I yanked the thin, brown paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them with cold water. I rubbed it all around my neck and wrists. I tried to catch my breath. My swollen eyes filled with more tears and I pressed my forehead to the white basin of the sink. The ground beneath my feet seemed to open up below me.

Something was definitely wrong. I felt it with my entire being.

"Calm down, Bella," I swallowed, gulping large gasps of air. "You have to calm down. You can't do this. You... y-you can't do this to yourself again."

I closed my eyes and shuddered, wishing that clocks could wind backward. Everything was messed up. The inevitable feeling of being alone came on strong.

"...Isabella?"

With a heavy gasp, I clutched the basin and spun around. Swiftly, I dropped to the ground and cowered beneath the sink.

"Isabella... why are you crying? Are you hurt?"

Shaking my head, I tried to close my mouth, tried to reason with myself. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"...Darling?"

I watched as soft, pale hands reached toward my face. I closed my eyes when the chilling fingertips grazed my cheek and wiped away the burning tears I'd shed.

"Don't cry Isabella... Nothing is worth your tears," the angel whispered softly, cool breath on my face. The voice was familiar, warm. It reminded me of everything that was once perfect in my life, everything that had disappeared.

I wanted it back. I wanted it all back.

Shivering, I ignored the pain of my bones tightening together. I'd suffer for this. To have it all again, I would gladly suffer.

"...Mom?" I whispered into the dark.

~*~

Rain sprinkled against the window pane, blurring the trees outside.

"Bella, you're exhausted."

"I know what I saw."

"Exhaustion can lead to delusions. Sometimes, the feeling of want can be so desperate that... your emotions can't help but surrender to it."

"She was there."

"How can that happen?" Diane asked calmly. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs in the other direction, pressing the pen to her bottom lip. She didn't believe me for one second. She wouldn't even allow herself the idea of believing me.

I stared over her head and out the window, unblinking. My eyes were heavy, and stuck open. The sweater surrounding me wasn't enough to keep me warm this evening.

"...Bella?" she questioned again. "How can that happen if your mother has passed away?"

"I don't _know_," I ground out through my teeth while my fingers massaged my throat, "but... I _know_... what I _saw_."

Miss Diane sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, writing a few things down. I watched the pen swirling, the marks coming up. It didn't take long to figure out the words she'd use to describe me. Insane. Crazy. Nutjob. Suffering.

At least the last one would suffice.

"Let's talk about something else," she said. "Why don't you tell me about how you've been getting along with the other kids around here?"

"You know how I'm getting along," I barked at her. "Don't you get the nurse files?"

"Is that still going on?"

"Every time someone isn't looking."

She frowned and moved her chair a little closer toward me. I pressed myself up against the back of mine. "Bella... I'm sorry you're going through such a traumatic time. I'd hoped that by now, you would have been placed. I'm doing what I can to move you up to the top of the list, but it's going to take-"

"Hope is overrated," I snipped, glaring at her grey eyes. "You can't go on hope. You have to go on facts. You can't control this place anymore than I can."

"Bella..." she said, tentatively. I knew where this was heading. "If you say we have to go on facts... then how could you have seen your mother in the restroom with you last night?"

I stared blankly at her face, wishing I could scream and claw her eyes out. I had so much anger inside me, and right now, she looked like the perfect punching bag.

"Bella?"

I peeled my eyes away and tugged at the gloves covering my fingers. "...I thought we were going to talk about something else."

~*~

On Monday, a package arrived for me. A tiny brown box, wrapped in clear tape all the way around. Someone took extra precautions when they were sending it, to make sure nothing and no one could get inside without being noticed. At first, I thought it was from Tom, and I felt the excitement I thought lost grow again.

But then I noticed the sender's name. E.C. And all I felt was ache.

With trembling hands, I sat at the far picnic table, as far away from everyone as humanly possibly, and ripped open the tape. I had no idea what would be in this package. It'd been a week, and I'd received nothing from Edward, even though he promised to write every day. Maybe the items in this tiny box were a send-off. _Sorry Bella, _it could be saying_. I figured out that there is a world outside of The Volturi Center, and that I don't need to remember you anymore. Have a good life_.

Somehow, in the deepest part of my core, I knew Edward Cullen would never be that shallow or cold. Not even in print.

A gasp escaped my lips when the contents were revealed. It wasn't a plastic hand with a middle finger extended. It wasn't shiny new toys, or cds, or snack food, like everyone else here received. It was eight, crisp, white envelopes, each with a single digit number on the front from 1 to 8.

Somewhere overhead, a bird squawked and flew away. Basketballs drummed on the court. Sneakers squeaked on the pavement. Gossip echoed. They were all in their world. Mine was wrapped up in whatever could be inside these envelopes.

Hesitantly, I opened #1, and fumbled to lay it flat before me. I stared at the beautiful scroll, taking nothing in but his penmanship, and felt the chains around my heart loosen slightly. It was sad, how little I knew of Edward, when the effect he had on me still existed, even from miles away. Something told me I shouldn't read these letters, that I'd only be more consumed, and that would do nothing to help me with the mess I was in. Edward left. I was still here. I needed to adjust to that, not bury myself in a fantasy life of what-ifs. What-ifs couldn't exist in a place like this.

_Dear Bella,  
I'm in the car, on the way to Port Angeles to see the home. It's raining out. I know I should be focused on the road ahead of me... But somehow, my mind keeps drifting back to you. I apologize for being unable to give you a proper goodbye. I find myself constantly asking questions, wondering what could have been different. I'm sure that if you are still thinking about me, then you're wondering if I will forget about you now that I'm out. After all, who would want to think about a place like that, right? I know what you're thinking. But Bella, please rest assured that that will not be the case. The only friend I've ever had beside you was Angela, and I've found more closeness with you in one night full of silence than I had with her in months. Sure, I'll miss her, and I wish her nothing but fulfillment, wherever her path may lead. But with you, I can't help but worry, and wonder, and wish. I am unsure what this means. What you mean to me. I've never had a friend before you, and somehow in this short period of time, I doubt I'll ever have another like you.  
I have to go now, we're pulling into the drive. I'll write more later, I promise.  
Sincerely, Edward_.

I took a deep breath, folded and placed it back in the envelope, and moved on to the next. In the back of my mind, I knew I should wait. Save them all for a later time, have something to look forward to. But with Edward, there was no waiting. It was as if he was standing in front of me, or lingering across the yard. This was here, _he_ was here, right now, with me. There was no way I could wait.

With willing fingers, I ripped open envelope #2.

_Dear Bella,  
Have you ever wished that you could freeze a moment in your life and bottle it up? I've thought about that today. Billy Black took me to the local diner to have lunch with him, to get to know each other better. The conversation flowed surprisingly well, as Billy's an easy guy to talk with. I didn't open up as easily as he'd hoped -- but somehow, ironically, I think he expected that. He appeared unphased and carried on to the next question, telling me he'd let me think about my answers. But then that question popped up: What has been a moment in your life before you were put in foster care, that you wished you could freeze and bottle up? And do you want to know something strange? I couldn't think of a any.  
I mean, sure, yes, I remember my mom fixing my hair when I was four or five, back when she'd actually touch me. She'd dip the comb in a cup of water and spike my hair up, laughing about how she was going to do it until it got stuck there -- which sadly, rang true -- and teasing me about how high she could make it. I loved to see her laugh, to watch her red hair bounce. But then I remember my father storming into the bathroom, and my mom clutching me to her chest. My father's shouts of her wasting time with 'the boy' when she could have been doing laundry. He knocked me over on his way to the hamper, yanked it from the corner, dumped all the clothes that were in it on my feet, and said that since I was being a pansy boy who loved to get his hair fixed, that I could be a pansy boy who learned to do laundry. And from then on, I was the only person in the house that would do it.  
Billy didn't know my thoughts had led to that direction. I tried not to show it on my face. But it really bothered me when I couldn't find a single happy memory. In fact, I don't think I even had a life back then. The happiest memory I've ever had in the past sixteen years was probably watching you draw what you wanted to see in me. Because that's what intrigued me most about you. In your eyes, in your touch, lies your passion. There, drawing, you were vulnerable. Spread open like a book before me. And I'll never forget how I felt being in your presence.  
Thank you for listening. I'd love to know about your happiest memory, whenever you write back.  
Sincerely, Edward._

Moving onto envelope #3 was more difficult with blurry eyes. I felt Edward's pain, as a five year old little boy, stab through my heart. It scared me, the unannounced connection I had with him. I blinked the tears away, thankful they didn't fall. I started to feel eyes on me from kids in the distance. I didn't want them to see me weak.

_Dear Bella,  
I had another nightmare tonight. I'd hoped that moving away from the hell of that place, that starting over anew would banish, or at least diminish, those, but sadly, it didn't. I woke up gasping and sweaty. The pillow soaked from strangled tears. Feeling more exhausted than before I fell asleep.  
I don't remember too much about the dream, except for the fact that you were there, and my mother. I stood in Times Square in New York City. You know, the place you see on the news, with all the televisions, signs and tall buildings? Only it was empty.  
Well, there was a giant distance between my mother and I. We stood facing each other. She stared at me blankly, with tubes connected to her arms, and reached out for me. I moved a step closer, and then I heard your voice. You called for me, and I spun around, and then there you were, standing in the distance, wearing those gloves of yours. And you reached out to me. I took four or five steps toward you, then turned back around, and noticed my mother had moved further back. I shouted for her that I'd return and stepped closer to you, and then she started screaming for help. I turned again and my dad had his hands around her throat. Her eyes bloodshot, her trembling fingers struggling to reach for me. I ran toward them, feet as heavy as iron lead, and begged for him to let her go, to hit me instead. Over and over, I felt the blows, each time he punched my mother. I begged for him to stop but he wouldn't. And then I heard you, screaming over their voices. Begging me to come back. Over and over, I was making decisions, moving forward and backward, going in circles. I felt my parents slipping away. I felt myself losing hope that I couldn't get to them in time, that I couldn't save my mother. And then I felt that same lost hope, that I couldn't help you, couldn't find out why you were in pain, were screaming endless, haunting screams. I felt the pull, began to grow dizzy, prayed I could somehow be in two places at once. But like smoke, everyone vanished into thin air, and I was the one that was alone.  
Then I woke up.  
I don't know why I'm writing you this. I shouldn't burden you with nonsense, but... I had to get it out. Tell someone. For some reason, I wanted to tell you.  
What does that mean?  
Sincerely, Edward._

The tears broke through the damn of my armor and splattered over his page. I didn't know what his dream meant to him. But, to me, I wondered if I was holding him back. Even with the separation, maybe my fear was coming true. I didn't want to hold him back, make him choose anything. I just wanted him to be happy.

"Shit," I cursed, swiping them away. I only made it worse. A few letters from Edward's name were now ruined.

Growling, I took a deep breath, put it back in its envelope, and opened #4.

_Dear Bella,  
I haven't sent these to you, and I apologize for that. I'm also sorry for the last letter you read. I thought about not sending it at all, but then I felt like I'd be keeping something from you, and that seemed impossible to do. Eventually, it'd come out in another letter anyway.  
Not much has changed around here. Billy's nice. He's a music teacher, spends a lot of time on the piano. I like to listen to the melodies when I sit outside the balcony to my room. His music is soothing.  
There's two other boys, Jasper and Jacob. Jake is Billy's biological son. He's fifteen. Jasper, who's sixteen, has been in the foster care system since he was three. Billy's trying to go through the adoption procedures with him right now. They are day and night apart, but seem very close. They're cool guys.  
Jake approached me first. He's shy, and Jasper is... not, so it surprised me when Jake extended a hand and offered to help me with my things. Of course I declined, but it made me feel good that he didn't look at me like an outsider trying to take over his place in his father's life. Guess it was all the horror stories I heard in The Volt, about kids like us. Coming in to preexisting lives, changing shit up, pissing people off.  
.I hope that it will be an easy transition for you as well. I cross my fingers that you'll get out of there as soon as humanly possible.  
Please let me know that you're doing okay, Bella. I think about that a lot.  
Sincerely, Edward._

Boys on the basketball fight were screaming at each other about cheating.

Angela came and sat on the far end of the bench from me. She gave me a tender smile and pulled a comic book from her bag.

I turned away from her and opened letter #5.

_Dear Bella,  
I thought about my mother a lot today. Wondering what she's doing, and what they are doing to her. Her next court date is coming up. They say I should be there. Not only as a key witness, but they're throwing 'suspect' out at me again. I'm unsure what to think right now, to tell you the truth. I haven't seen my mother in weeks. I have no idea about her mental stability, but if it's anything like her letters... well... then I fear for the both of us.  
I'll let you know how it goes. I have to help Jasper do some yard work.  
When you write back, tell me if you've been reading anything good lately. I know how you steal those books from The Volt's library on occasion. ;)  
Sincerely, Edward._

It felt strange but I almost smiled at the thought that he knew I borrowed the library books. Without meaning to, I pictured the three books hidden under a sweatshirt in my locker. I wondered what he'd write back about my choices.

"Would you like some?" Angela asked as she extended a can of Pringles toward me.

I bit my lip and stared at her, refocusing on the present for a moment. My stomach growled.

She shook the can around.

I smiled and took a few, then looked back toward the box in front of me. "Thanks."

"Sure," she answered quietly.

I wiped any grease from the Pringles off of my fingers on my jeans. I couldn't stand the idea of any of the letters getting dirty.

I pulled letter # 6 out quickly, needing his words more than I should.

_Dear Bella,  
I hope you're not sick of me yet. It feels like you're the only one I can talk to, even if it's only through the mail. How are you? How are things with Sheena? I want to know everything, please don't hold back. I need to know. It's been burning inside me, not being there. I feel left in the dark._

I smiled at the sentence he had to scribble out and re-write. It made him seem more real to me, just then. Like the beautiful boy who once stood in front of me, flaws and all.

_^^^Sorry, Jasper sat on my bed. Anyway, I don't think I'll be able to write much tonight, unfortunately. The guys keep going on and on about a party they are having on the beach. Say I have to go. A part of me wants to stay here and write to you. Imagine what you're thinking. But another part of me wants to go and try to enjoy myself, get to know them better. Again, like the dream, I'm torn.  
But they're not going to stop until I go. I'll write more later.  
Have you received that package from Tommy yet? Just wondering.  
Wish me luck tonight.  
Sincerely, Edward._

A sharp pain pressed into my ribs when I folded that one back up. I wasn't sure if it was jealousy, or worry, or some other foreign emotion that bothered me. Edward was going to be okay there, I could tell. I needed to accept it. Needed to support him. I couldn't be worrying every time he went out and did things with his friends. That's what teenage boys did, what I used to do.

What made it so different with him?

_Dear Bella,  
The party went okay after all. At first, the rest of the kids looked at me like I was the outsider. I almost expected them to make me leave, and was slightly concerned that some of the guys wanted to piss on all of the women, to mark their territory. I spent most of the time looking out at the ocean and thinking back to our night last week.  
Jasper and Jacob brought three girls back with them. Billy never noticed, asleep on the opposite side of the house. Everyone was wasted by then. I wasn't sober myself.  
I cannot tell you what the guys were doing with those two in their rooms, but from what it sounded like... Well... let's just say that I shouldn't have been listening at all.  
The third girl, Naomi, hung out with me while her friends were busy. She's very nice, a bit timid. She was born in Japan. Her father's retired from the Navy after more than twenty years dedicated, and decided to move to Port Angeles to take care of his sick mother. She has an absent mother and is left most days to wander around by herself. I think you'd get along with her, if you two were to meet. She seems to understand where I come from, what the world is like for you and I. She doesn't ask too many questions.  
Jasper and Jacob gave me this idea at the party. They said that maybe we could sneak you out one night, bring you back here and hang out with us. I told them that they were crazy, that it could get the both of us in serious trouble.  
But then I thought about how much I missed seeing your eyes.  
How are you sleeping?  
Sincerely, Edward._

With trembling fingers, I tossed the envelope back in the box and clung to the last letter like it was my final breath. He was with a girl. Why did that bother me so much? Why did I want to scream, or cry, or kick this picnic table? I had to have known this was coming, had to have known that he'd make more friends. That girls would come around. That there would be attraction.

I couldn't expect that he'd wait for someone like me. Mousy, pale, motherless, albino-girl Bella.

Edward and I, we were just friends. Pen pals.

I shouldn't feel so jealous.

The letters Edward sent to me- each of them- I felt grateful for and angry with myself for once thinking he decided not to write. Because he had written every day he'd been gone.

This was the start of a friendship web, like the kind I made with my friends in my past life. One of us would tie yarn around our finger and throw the ball, saying something nice about the person who caught it. Then they'd wrap it around their finger, and toss it to the next person, and so on and so on, until the circle between everyone became a web.

Sure, these letters weren't little notes of Edward saying nice things about me.

It was much more than that.

He was opening himself up. And I knew that I could do the same. I trusted him.

I stared at #8 in my hands. Pondered opening it for the longest time, while I listened to the other kids laugh and the tree branches swaying.

I tried to remind myself that, after this, there'd be no more letters for now.

But I still couldn't wait.

With a defeated sigh, I ripped the final letter open, and held my breath while I read it.

_Dear Bella,  
You should be receiving this on Monday. At least I hope so. If not, you may be surprised when you find out that I am coming to get you tonight. Be at your window at eleven o'clock, and dress warm. I'll see you as soon as I can.  
Sincerely, Edward._

_

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_

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

Please let me know your thoughts. Feedback means a _lot_ to writer's who dedicate their time to provide a story, so make sure to hit that green button if it pleases you. ;)

**Three Quick announcements:  
**1.) Pictures of Bella & Edward (age 16) have been added to the thread. I'll update their pics when they turn 17, and 18 as well.  
2.)I've noticed from a lot of your pm's and reviews... This story is not even 1/2 finished yet. We are no where near the preface. :D  
2.) I have created a reader's blog! This will **NOT **be replacing any threads or communities or LiveJournals dedicated to my stories, but it **will **be a new place to keep you informed if and why I have a lackage of updates, sneak peeks of things to come, books/movies/songs I'd recommend to you, and much, much more. So please, I ask you to check it out (link's in profile) and subscribe/bookmark it, so that you're always informed. It'll make things much easier for everyone.

*****

**Reviews are better than missed letters from a friend.**


	9. CH 8: Small Words, Giant Declarations

"_~ Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones. ~"  
Mignon McLaughlin_

_

* * *

_**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Eight : Small Words, Giant Declarations.  
**Energy changes between Bella and Edward as Edward is the first to recognize that big changes are taking place, and neither has control over them.

**Special Shout-Out's:  
-- To my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/facebookers/lexiconers.... **thank you so fucking much. You keep me standing. You know the many reasons why.  
**-- To my beta Caryn (Jazz Girl)... **thank you for keeping me together. Thank you for many other unmentionables. You know why too.  
**Disclaimer: I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)**

* * *

**_" Is this the end of the moment, or just a beautiful unfolding,  
of a love that will never be, or maybe... be?  
Everything that I never thought could happen, or ever come to pass,  
and I wonder if maybe, maybe I could be all you ever dreamed?  
Cause you are:  
Beautiful inside, so lovely and I can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are...  
And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true:  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you."_  
~ Safetysuit, "Anywhere But Here"**

* * *

**Chapter Eight : Small Words, Giant Declarations**

**BellaPOV **

"Hey, pretty girl."

I smiled down at his glowing face and watched, completely stunned, as hot air from my lungs floated into the midnight on a faint silver cloud. I had _exhaled_. At last, I could breathe, because he was here, and he was taking me with him, away from this desolate blackness that threatened to cave in around me. My angel. My savior. My only friend. All at once, I wasn't the broken girl in the corner of the library at _The Volturi Center_, praying that Sheena and her friends would finally leave me alone. I wasn't the scared girl who shivered in her bed, having nightmares of her dead mother and screaming into the night about all the things I could have done better. I wasn't the pitiful girl waiting by the phone for a call from Tom or my friends back home that never came. I was just Bella again. And I could breathe.

"What took you so long?" I asked quietly with a broad smile. His hands extended and met my hips and he slowly pulled me down from the windowsill, careful not to bump my head on the glass.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, tossing what I recognized to be a new jacket around my shoulders. "We had car trouble."

"We?"

"Come on," he whispered, quietly closing the window behind me. "You'll see."

Hand in hand, we ran across the damp yard to the dark pavement. A car waited for us around the corner. I halted when I saw a girl sitting in the open driver's side door and two boys leaning against the rusting car, smoking cigarettes and looking bored. The girl was beautiful, like someone I used to watch on the Miss Teen pageants. Edward squeezed my hand reassuringly, bringing me back. "Bella, this is Jacob, Jasper, and Naomi. This is Naomi's car. She helped us sneak out after ours broke down twenty minutes into the trip."

"You left your car?" I asked incredulously.

He grinned and gave a shrug. A tall, skinny blonde boy with twisty curls clarified. "It was a piece of shit anyway. We'll be getting a new one soon." He extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Jasper." I gave a shy smile, too mesmerized by his hair and thick southern accent.

The shorter boy next to him with bulging biceps and spiky black hair shook my hand next. "What's up Bella? I'm Jake." Again, all I could do was smile. Finally, the girl, who looked like the beautiful next door neighbor everyone fell in love with in the movies, bounced out of the driver's seat and pulled me into a quick hug.

"Oh, it's so nice to finally meet you!" she laughed, rubbing my back before she released me. "I've heard so much about you. Edward's gone on, non-stop. Bella this. Bella that. Bella, Bella, Bella. You'd be surprised how much he can ta-"

"Oh, okay," Edward cut her off with a dismissive glance. He smiled at me and gave a nervous chuckle. "We don't need to... get into that... now." Curious, I gave a nod, but wondered what she was going to say. I reserved my curiosity for later. "Come on," he whispered with a wink. "After you." I climbed into the back of the car after Jasper, while Jake sat in the passenger seat beside Naomi. I couldn't help but size her up as she turned the ignition and put the car in drive. I didn't tell her, but I knew -- what I felt to be too much -- about her from Edward's letters. I realized it wasn't fair to feel so jealous. But deep down, I couldn't help it. Edward was _my _friend.

The ride back was spent half in silence and half immersed in loud rock music, with Jasper and Jacob trying to scream the lyrics over Naomi's jokes and laughter. Edward and I kept quiet and pressed tight against each other in the tiny backseat of the old Audi. Feeling his soothing breath on my face, I realized how badly I needed to crash, and I grew increasingly frustrated because of my drooping eyelids. I didn't have time to sleep. I didn't want to waste a moment.

"It's okay," Edward whispered, tapping my leg with his warm right hand. "I'll wake you when we get there."

"I don't need to sleep," I argued, doing my best to not yawn in front of him.

"Don't lie to me," he retorted.

With a frown, I stared at his hand, so, so warm and resting on my leg. I felt the shiver of blood inside my body from the connection. I prayed he wouldn't move it. Before I knew it, my head was on his shoulder, and I had drifted away to a better place, one where time didn't exist and Edward wasn't going anywhere.

~*~

When I woke up, I wasn't in the backseat of Naomi's car. I was in a bed, a gigantic bed, with soft white sheets that smelled of hibiscus and fabric softener. I was in a strange bed, not in a car, not at The Volt, and Edward didn't wake me up like he said he would. When I stared up at the vaulted log ceiling and reality finally set in, I gasped and sat up. I hadn't slept in weeks and I thought about how much it always felt like the sky was the ground the ground was the sky. Somehow, it didn't feel like that now. My heart sped erratically as I blinked around the dim room, and it didn't slow until my eyes found a silhouetted figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

Trembling, I slid back until my shoulders hit the headboard. With the combination of lack of sleep, harassment at The Volturi Center, and bad hallucinations of my mother, sometimes I lost track of where my mind was. "E-Edward," I hissed, trying to calm my breathing. "Is that you?" It took a second for my eyes to adjust. When they did, and the room lightened a little, they fixed on the shape of Edward holding something in his hand. Something that was mine that he shouldn't see. I frowned and looked down to the sheets. "You didn't wake me," I said carefully.

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Bella?" Edward's voice was hoarse and dry.

I stole a glance at the clock. I'd been asleep for hours. I'd lost time with him and was pissed at myself because of it. "I... um... didn't want to bother you. You seemed so relaxed here. It's not important," I shrugged.

Edward scoffed, turning to wave the piece of paper at me. "Why would you think this wasn't important?"

"Why does it matter?" I asked. "You're not there anymore. You shouldn't be concerned with what's going on with me."

"You're my friend, Bella," Edward argued. "This is important. If these girls are harassing you this horribly, drawing pictures of you hanging from the fucking ceiling with wrists dripping, shoving shit like this in your backpack for you to find later when you're alone and vulnerable? Then, yes, I'd say this is important."

I reached out and yanked the paper from his hands. "It's nothing."

Edward shot off the bed, growling, and began to pace around the room. "God, why do you do this? Why do you say that?! This isn't nothing! You can't fucking shrug shit like this off, Bella!"

"Yo, Edward," Jasper's voice sounded before the door opened softly. He stumbled in, drunk, as a female voice snickered in the background. "Hey buddy, I realize your girlfriend is here and you're both excited and dealing with... drama. But you've gotta keep your voice down, because if I can hear you while I'm... noisily occupied... then Billy can hear you from across the house. Capiche?"

Edward nodded bitterly toward the ground. Jasper closed the door without another word. Edward's emerald eyes met mine again, but I looked away. I felt ashamed. I didn't want to upset him. The air between us grew thicker.

Calmly, he walked around the side of the bed and sat close to where I was. "I'm sorry, Bella," he exhaled. "I just... I feel protective of you, somehow." He frowned and fiddled with the watch around his wrist. Another new part of him. "Does that make sense?" he whispered to me. "That I feel that way toward you?"

Swallowing thickly, I nodded and forced myself to finally look at him. "Yeah," I answered gingerly. "It does."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," I said. "When, uh, you... first told me about Naomi, in your letters, I... pretty much wanted to strangle her."

Edward laughed softly. "Why? She's not like _those _girls. She's nice."

"Exactly," I answered, too quickly. "She is nice. And she's sickly sweet. She's young, and exotic, and available, and she's here, around you, being your friend, someone who's there for you, who you can talk to on a daily basis and laugh at each other's jokes, and be around when you need a shoulder, and... I'm not."

"I'm not interested in Naomi, Bella."

"But she's interested in you, Edward."

Edward frowned and looked down at his hands. He couldn't deny that fact, and I'd be upset with him if he tried to. I didn't blame Naomi for liking Edward. I blamed myself for not wanting her to, for not wanting him to be happy if she were the one making him that way.

With a defeated shrug, I sighed and covered his wrist with my hand. "It's okay," I mumbled, giving an awful forced smile. "I know we're trying to be friends and that we only met because we were both in a shitty situation. Any other circumstance beside that and we probably wouldn't have ever spoken. If my mom were alive and if your mom hadn't..." I paused that part. "If I had met you back before things went wrong, I doubt I would have spoken to you. It's hard for me to say that. But back then, I was naive and I didn't fully understand anything about the darkness that could exist in this wo-"

Edward cut me off with a wave of his free hand and a light scoff. "I understand," he said softly. He wouldn't look at me and it hurt to lose that connection. Even though we were touching, it wasn't enough. I couldn't take the pain from him. The pain of the truth.

"You do?" I asked with a defiant frown.

"Yeah. You had everything then, and you lost it all. But before that, you would've had no need to speak to someone like me. Someone who wore the same clothes, who smelled, who had bruises and looked homeless, scrounging for food in school trash cans-"

I shook my head quickly, wishing he would have missed my point, "Like I said, I was naive and stupid."

"No," he argued. "You were _protected_. Your mother did a good job raising you, Bella. She kept you safe."

"My mother gave up!" I snapped, pulling my gloved hand away from his skin. I didn't know where the anger came from, but it came in a tidal wave, engulfing me. "She gave up on me! She bailed out!"

"And my father beat the hell out of my mother and I for years, and because of that, she murdered him," he argued without missing a beat. "That doesn't change the fact that we were both fucked over, Bella, and we didn't deserve any of-"

"But we have to deal with it!"

He snatched the paper back from my hands, unfolded it, and tossed it, open, on my lap. "Like you're dealing with that?"

Shivering, I stared into his dark eyes, and shook my head. My stomach churned. I didn't like confrontation. I was so scared I was going to lose him, my only friend, or another part of myself. I barely had anything left. "I'm dealing the best way I can," I said hoarsely. "What did you expect me to do? Threaten them? Fight back? Throw a punch?"

"I would have," he sneered at me. "It's better than taking it and taking it and taking it until you're nothing but trampled mud on the soles of their shoes."

"Yeah, well I'm not you."

Edward nodded and took a deep breath. "I know," he said after a few deafening moments of silence. "That's why you need me."

I steadied myself, trying hard to catch my breath. His words stunned me.

I couldn't argue with that anymore than he could argue about Naomi.

So I shrugged and just listened to the silence.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

Fall came and went in the blink of the eye and, before we knew it, winter hit like a lightening bolt. The end of November was filled with early mornings decorated in frosted windshields and sparkling white fields of ice across the pavement. Night became bitter, the air frozen and hard to breathe. You couldn't stand outside for long without feeling dizzy. Billy and I grew much closer than I figured we would be and, by my fourth week at his house, I was laughing on a regular basis. The emotions were foreign and sometimes I'd recognize how rare it was, laughing. But I did my best to shrug it off. I told myself that I deserved to be happy, deserved to be given a chance to turn things around.

Jasper, Jake, and I grew extremely close. We bonded on the unoriginal things most guys do -- sports, school, girls. But there was also a separate individual connection with each of them. I went to Jasper if I was struggling with life problems, especially my mother's court trial. He seemed to be able to relate to anything I was going through, having a dark past of his own. He'd console without bringing me down. He'd cheer me up when I needed it. I went to Jacob if I was dealing with separation anxiety with Bella. He may have been a lot younger than Jasper and I, but he knew more about girls than anyone I knew. He knew the right things for me to tell Bella in my letters, things to reassure her that I was thinking about her and wanting the best for her. I didn't want Bella to go a day without receiving a letter from me and I made it a point to send one every morning by seven am. Billy never asked me about my letters, given or received, from my mother or Bella, and I respected for him for that. He knew what his role was in my life. He was there to provide shelter, advice, and support. He wasn't there to be a spy, and my personal life was none of his business.

When Bella came over, we didn't refer to her as "Bella" around Billy, because I was certain that he'd recognize the name from the letters and catch on to what was going on. So, during the one time Jasper introduced her to him, he called her 'B', which Billy mistook as "Vee" because Jasper had gum in his mouth at the time. We let it go. Bella didn't mind.

A few days after Bella's first visit, Billy introduced me to his grand piano. The only time I'd seen a musical instrument was on television. I'd never felt mesmerized by an inanimate object before, as possessions were something I never had the liberty of keeping. But for the first time in my life, I fell in love. I didn't know how to play the thing and for days I wouldn't touch it because I didn't want to damage it. It took a few days of talking me down and calming me before Billy introduced me to the keys. And I felt my life slowly change for the better. I found another piece of me in the music.

Bella and I developed a well crafted plan to sneak her out three nights a week and bring her home with me. We made sure to rotate the days, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on one week and then Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday the next, back and forth so no one caught on. She couldn't sleep at The Volturi Center. It bothered me when she was harassed and I couldn't do anything about it. She knew what time to meet me, where to stand at, what to bring. She knew what to say if someone caught her outside, and she knew how long to give me before she went back in and called it a failed night (which only happened once, when the car wouldn't start). Every night I saw her, I noticed her smile grow a little wider. She appeared rested. Some days, she even looked…at peace. Those were two core necessities I had to make sure she had. I did everything in my power to give them to her.

Jasper and Jacob did their best to help me out. When they rode with me, they didn't complain about the gas money we spent. Their teasing about me being pussy-whipped fell off drastically. No one ever made fun of her, even jokingly, because they knew better. Every drive to get her, I was in a great mood. Every drive to take her back, I was silent. They'd become aware of both states of mind and let me be me, regardless. I grew to love them as my brothers, and Billy as my mentor. Even Laurent, Billy's caretaker, noticed a change in me, in my behavior. He'd greet me with an encouraging smile, asking me how I'd been. I never had anyone care about me, ask questions about me before that.. For the first time in the longest time, I felt a sense of belonging.

But new chances came with new experiences, and not all of them were great ones. In the four weeks I'd been at Billy's, I changed in other ways, too. I went a little wild. I started back to school and to say that it was different would mean an improvement, and that wasn't necessarily the case. Sure, I had new clothes and two boys I could count on to be there for me if things got rough. But the thing was, things didn't really get rough, and that made me more uncomfortable. Not having everyone ignore me. Not being used to questions about my life, questions I didn't want to answer truthfully and answers I had to make up so I could continue to fit in. I wasn't used to girls looking at me without being disgusted. And I most certainly, _certainly_, wasn't used to the peer pressure that came along with the package.

The first time I drank was the night of the bonfire, at my "introductory party". And, after I realized how easy it could be to forget things while intoxicated, the more I made it a minimal habit. I didn't go crazy or anything when I drank, but it was easier to smile and relax my muscles when I had a couple of beers in my stomach. Jasper was the first to introduce me to marijuana a week and a half later, something I never thought I'd try. I'd have lost the swim team if I'd gotten caught. To my surprise, I ended up enjoying the numbing feeling, the way everything got a little brighter, a little funnier, or a little better. Over the weeks, Jacob introduced me to countless girls. It seemed the boy had an endless supply. I never took part in the activities going on in their rooms, never brought any girls back to my room besides Bella and Naomi. Naomi would listen to old records with me and we'd laugh about things Jasper or Jacob or I had done that day. We'd talk about her father. When Bella came, it was different. More balanced, but thickened. Every cell in my body felt alive whenever she'd touch me, even if it was the simplest hug hello or goodbye.

But then, the hormones inside my sixteen year old body settled in strong. The moment I realized things could get tricky, I did a few extra chores around the house and earned enough money from Billy to buy a black leather couch to put in my room. Before, Bella would sleep in my bed and I would sleep on the floor. But after a few weeks of that, when I lay there, unable to sleep, and thought about the color of her skin or how her long hair splayed across my pillow, I realized I wanted to be in the bed _with _her. And that wasn't an idea either of us should be toying with, especially at our age, with the endless complications in our lives. I knew I had to think responsibly while I could, when I was outside of that room. "Why do you need a couch?" Billy asked with a sly grin. "You have a perfectly new king-size bed in there."

"Uh... for gaming," I answered with a shrug. "Jasper moved the PS3 into my room and... I like to sit up when I play, instead of laying flat on my back. It's... sort of uncomfortable." I never imagined he'd buy it so quickly, but he did. That was the thing I liked most about Billy. He recognized that we weren't children, and let us have our space, as long as we did what we were told around the house and stayed out of trouble. The chores were no problem, of course. I was used to them. But the staying out of trouble part? If he only knew the half of it...

One day, when the crisp air gave way and the snow dissolved, Jasper and I bundled up and met some of his friends at a local skate park. Neither of us took up the sport, but it was fun to sit under one of the half-pipes, smoke a few joints, eat spicy Cheetos, and talk about random things. "Ever done hard drugs?" he asked, taking a sip of his Cherry Coke.

"You know I haven't," I answered after taking a long hit. "And I have no desire to either."

"None at all?"

"Not right now."

"Well that's a not a definite 'no', and I can work with that." Jasper chuckled. With a deep sigh, he removed his beanie and scratched the top of his head. "Dude," he said calmly, "we've got to break some of these virgin habits you're stuck in. You need to live a little."

"Maybe I'm fine being a virgin," I argued.

Jasper's laughter caught the attention of a few of his friends. He stole the joint back. "No sixteen year old boy is really fine with being a virgin anything. Especially when all of his friends aren't. That's just the shit you say to make it look like you're not a reject for not getting any or doing anything."

"The only friends I give a shit about around here are you and Jake. I don't care what people in school think."

"Well, then that's two friends who know what it's like to be surrounded by the glory of pussy and ecstasy, my man."

I pondered for a moment, watching Jacob approach a group of guys, now that his tutoring session was over. "Jake is what? Bareley fifteen? I mean, doesn't he think that's a little young to be-"

"Dude, were you jerking it at fifteen?"

I looked over at him and rolled my eyes.

"Exactly," he grinned mischievously. "I'm sure our little boy Jacob over there figured out that it was better and much easier to let someone do the work for you."

"I've got enough going on in my life without getting involved in any of that right now." I said dismally. "My mother's court date is coming up, her lawyers are constantly hounding me, I'm dealing with social workers and therapists and adjustments and Bella's living sit-"

"Exactly! Which is why you seriously need to take a load off. Too much stress and shit will make your brain implode."

I gave a long sigh and watched as his friend Johnny did a kick-flip off of a short rail, landing it perfectly.

"Ask you a question?" he said after a few moments.

"Sure."

Jasper passed the joint back to me. "What's the deal with you and Bella?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I'm sure she's stressed out too... and vulnerable... and ripening," he laughed, using his hands to trace a curvy form in front of him. I shot him a warning look. He dropped his hands, "I don't mean no disrespect. I know you care about her and want to help her out of the jam she's in. And I'm sure that, you know, she considers you this like, Adonis or some shit, being there for her all the time and writing romantic poetry or whatever the fuck you do in those letters you send, being over here every other night and climbing into your warm bed-"

"It's not like that with her. You don't know what you're talking about," I sneered at him.

"Oh I don't?"

"No."

"Then tell me, dear Edward, why is it that you purchased a couch? Why not sleep in the bed with her, keep her warm and make her feel safe? Wasn't that what you were telling me you did with her a while back on the beach?" Hesitantly, I tried to think of a good answer, but wasn't quick enough. Jasper saw right through me. "Exactly," he chuckled. "And that's the thing about male hormones, man. Once they show up and that realization settles in... the, _'hey, she's pretty fucking hot, and I can't believe I'm thinking about her naked right now but I am and it's awesome'_, it doesn't ever go away. It's better to fuck than be fucked. Trust me. I know."

I could tell him that Bella didn't need me to complicate her life. That I had nothing to offer her. That I didn't see her that way. But I decided against it. "Jazz, it's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"I did once," he shrugged. "And it was great, and I thought I really cared about her. But then she was forced to move away when her father caught me in her pretty pink bedroom with my hand up her shirt. We lost contact."

"Never tried to look for her again?"

Jasper said, "If it's meant to be, it'll happen."

~*~

I didn't tell Jasper, but his comments really bothered me. Confused me. Woke me up a little. _If it's meant to be, it'll happen_. Did that mean I had no control over the choice? Did I truthfully want control?

The last thing I needed was to think about Bella, my only real friend, in that sort of way. That's why I was taking precautions. I wasn't naive enough to think that feelings may never deepen between us. We'd been around each other, we knew each other's fears, we shared our secrets. Walls crumble between us that were built to keep everyone else out, and to think that we wouldn't become vulnerable around each other was simply ridiculous. But the more it crossed my mind, the more I agonized over it.

When Bella came that following Saturday, I made sure to keep distance between us. I could tell that it was bothering her, that I was giving her the wrong impression. "You're not saying much," Bella mumbled as she handed me the next plate to rinse. I'd told her earlier that she didn't have to help me with my chores, but she argued that Billy had gone to bed early and she didn't want to be in my room without me while I cleaned, so I didn't fight about it. I shrugged and turned on the water.

"I have things on my mind," I said softly, hoping she'd let it go. Of course, that'd be too easy.

"Like what?" she pushed on, pausing before she handed me the next dish. My opened palmed lingered as I met her eyes. She seemed desperate for this information. She had no idea what she was asking for.

I quickly looked away. "Uhhh, just... things with my mom's trial, really."

Bella exhaled. "Edward, why do you lie to me?"

"What makes you think I'm lying, Bella?"

"Because, when you lie, you say 'really'. Like, '_I'm fine, really'_, or something. I see you. I've come to know you..." Her strong voice swiftly went soft again. Too soft. She was upset. "Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you?"

"I think I'll let it resolve itself, " I said dismally. "There's no need to discuss every little thing that bothers me whenever it bothers me, or I'd never shut up."

Bella's brows furrowed as she finally handed me the next plate and sighed. "Maybe that's your problem," she retorted.

"What's my problem?"

"You, being so uptight about things. Maybe if you spoke about them, you could loosen up."

"Bella," I smiled to keep my anger in check and shook my head before placing the plate into the dish drainer. "No offense here, but you're _really _not one to be lecturing me over talking about things."

"I'm just trying to find out what's wrong with you, Edward. That's what friends do."

"And friends also know when to mind their own business and... Let. Things. Go." I held her gaze intently on the last three words, hoping she'd get the message.

Immediately the dish she was washing dropped into the sink. Bella pushed down the nozzle and hastily tossed the washcloth in the water,splattering me with suds and scalding hot water. Wiping her soaked hands on her jeans, she stormed away from the kitchen without so much as a glance over her shoulder. "Where are you going?" I called after her. She responded by telling me to go to hell. Then and there, I realized how much I hated myself for realizing what hormones could do to you and I hated Jasper for putting ideas into my head because of it. Why did things have to constantly change? Why couldn't the earth stand still?

With a defeated sigh, I finished the dishes as quickly as I could and went to go find her. Maybe I would try to apologize, though I wasn't certain I should be apologizing. I still needed to make it right. When I entered my room, now cold and charged with the static frustration between us, I found that she was hastily shoving the few things she'd brought into her backpack. My heart jolted in my chest. What was she doing? "What are you doing?" I asked, closing the door behind me. I tried to keep myself in check, tried not to panic.

"I'm not going to stay here if I feel like I'm not welcome. You're being a jerk. Maybe coming here all the time is a bad idea."

I sighed heavily. "Bella," I whispered, concentrating to keep my voice low. Billy was in his room. "We're not going to get along every damn day. Things like this are going to happen, but you were invading my priva-"

"I was not!" she cut me off, stomping around the room to look for her shoes. She slid her feet into them without putting on socks or untying the laces. "I was trying to get you to talk to me! You've been quiet all damn night!" Her voice was already at a normal volume and I was worried it would keep going up. " You've been distant, and cold, and short-tempered, and that's not you, and this is the first night that you've made me uncomfortable around you, and I hate feeling like that, so I'm going to take myself out of the equation."

"I think you're being ridiculous," I scoffed.

"How am I being ridiculous?!" she retorted, not missing a beat.

"Shhhh, please keep your voice down. You know what could happen…"

Her look clearly told me she didn't give a rat's ass if Billy found her or not. Plus, she was frustrated because she couldn't figure out how she was holding her jacket, so she fumbled with it and then slammed it down on top of her bag when it wouldn't cooperate with her. "Hmm? Tell me, Edward, how am I being ridiculous? Because I don't want to fight with you? Because you're being an asshole? Because I'm uncomfor-"

"Why can't you just let it go?" I hissed.

"Because I have enough things I've let go of in my life! But you, y-you were supposed to be different, okay?" she said, hastily pacing the room in front of me. "You were supposed to be my solid ground, and I am supposed to be yours." Her voice went quiet again, but I hated it because it was a defeated quiet. "I _want _to be yours. But suddenly, out of no where, you're shutting me out. Like everyone else. In your last letter, it was, '_Oh I can't wait to see you, I have so much to show you, I miss having you around'_. And then I get here and suddenly you've turned into a goddamned mute!"

Like that, the fire was back again. "I may be young and I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know when someone is avoiding me and being crass, and you, Edward, are being really fucking crass." She paused to glare at me. Lingered there. Now I was the uncomfortable one. "You know," she concluded, "if I wanted someone to be cold and distant to me, I would've just stayed where I was and not risked getting caught and traveling two hours in crowded car just to be with you."

As she stared, I focused on two things she'd said, over and over again, making things more complicated: _I want to be yours_ and _just to be with you_.

I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts. This could get out of hand. I fought the urge to scream. "Bella," I whispered, partly because of Billy and partly because I was fighting for control, "please don't push this," I begged, taking a small step closer. "Just... let it go."

"I told you," she hissed at me. "I've let go and lost enough. If you're feeling different about me, if you're feeling like I'm pressuring you to be my friend, or that you don't _want_ to be my friend, or that you're only being my friend because you feel obligated-"

"_God_," I growled angrily, before I resumed my pacing. "Why do you always do that Bella?! Why do you always think that, if I'm being quiet, that I've changed my mind about being your friend?! Why do you always bring up that I probably feel like I am obligated? I've never given you that impression Bella! I've never said you were a fucking task, something I had to do in order to check it off of my list and move on-"

"But you're acting like it now!"

"I don't mean to!" The words came out as a breath of air because I'd whispered the scream.

"Then stop!" she screamed back.

We both froze, knowing we were busted. Surely we'd woken him.

"Dude, Edward, the tv volume, fucker!" Jasper yelled from the other room, saving my ass.

"Sorry," I yelled back, covering.

My arms dangled by my sides. What was this girl doing to me? What was she really saying? I stared at her, wishing I could rewind the night and start over. I felt stranded and lost, in the middle of nowhere, with no help, no map, and no lifeboat.

"Forget it," Bella sneered as she grabbed her things. With two long steps, her right shoulder smacked into mine as she swung the bedroom door open and stepped into the hallway, "I'll find my own way back. I'll take a bus if I have to."

I felt myself rocking. The world was tipping on its axis again. Left, then right, and then left, too quickly. I stared up at my ceiling, trying to catch my breath. It never came. "Bella!" I hissed, before turning on my heel. I chased down the hall after her. I ignored Jasper growling for me to be quiet before I got our asses caught. I ignored the pain shooting up my right side when I ran into the banister rounding the corner. Bella moved full speed ahead, out the front door. She slammed it before I could reach it. Cursing under my breath and hoping Billy was sleeping hard, I pulled the door open and pulled it shut again behind me, as quickly and quietly as I could, breaking into a run halfway down the long driveway.

The slick, glittering ground was frozen with winter's declaration. Once we crossed a certain point in the drive, the lights overhead all but diminished. I could barely see her figure as she stormed on into the darkened night. I felt my fear in my throat. "Bella!" I shouted, hoping I was far enough from the house not to be heard, "please, just stop! You're being irrational! Come back inside. It's dark out, you could trip and get hurt-"

"I'll be fine," she said shortly.

"That's not the answer I want."

"Well we don't all get what we want, do we, Edward."

"Bella, please, stop," I picked up speed, nearly slipping on the asphalt. As soon as I reached her at the end of the narrowing drive, I grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Bella's hands met my chest and she pushed me back as hard as she could, nearly knocking me on my ass.

"Don't grab me like that!" she hissed, jerking her wrist from my grasp. I would have been less afraid if she'd screamed. "Just let me go, Edward. You told me to let it go, so you do the same."

Stunned, I continued to chase her. The air in my lungs burned cold. Every time I spoke, a cloud formed in front of my face, clouding my vision. I couldn't bear losing sight of her. "Bella, look, I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. But I need you to just trust that I have some things to sort out and these things, I need to handle on my own, on my own time, with my own terms-"

"And you'll be able to do that now Edward, because I'm getting out of your hair."

"Stop twisting my words around. That's not what I meant!" I caught up to her again and this time, instead of grabbing her, I spun in front and cut her off, forcing her tiny body to slam into my chest. Regardless, she pushed me away from her again. Her eyes were dark. Her frame tight. "Bella please," I begged, trying to calm us both down. I made sure to wait before I spoke again. I still couldn't catch my breath. More panic set in. "I really... Um... Don't leave."

"You need time-"

"Bella, I don't want you to go," I argued.

"Maybe time is what we both need to figure things out. I'm probably going to be placed soon anyway. We can't keep the charade up for long, Edward. People are either going to find out or feelings are going to get torn apart. Either way-"

"We can work on that."

"What makes you think it'll work?"

"Because I need you too," I said swiftly. Then I exhaled, long and hard. Ahh, the feeling of breath again. I never really imagined a more euphoric moment.

Bella stared up at me, jaw locked in place, arms crossed over her chest. Snow began to fall around us. It sprinkled her chestnut hair and landed on her blue shirt. "What?" she blinked.

"Like I told you before," I swallowed heavily. "You need me Bella. Not just want to be around, not just want to be my friend. You _need_ me. Like air, you need me, and... I need you, too."

"Why?" she asked numbly.

"Because," I looked around, hoping to find an answer in the darkened trees, in the pale night, somewhere, anywhere. When it didn't come, I said the first thing that came to my mind, "You're my lifeboat, okay?"

She blinked again.

I shrugged. "I know that probably makes no fucking sense to you at all, but you are. You keep me afloat when everything here tries to sink me. You keep me going. You give me a reason to wake up when all I want to do is roll over and die. I feel more at peace with you, sitting in complete darkness, or hell, even chasing you down the road, than I've felt in the last sixteen years of my life."

She cracked the smallest smile, but regained her frown swiftly. She was stubborn. I grew to love and hate that quickly.

"And," I said with a shrug, "and because I'm scared. I'm scared of so many things, things that I have no control over. And I know I can't do anything about it because it's coming whether I want to or not. But... with you... I mean, I feel like I have someone to go through those things with. Someone who gets me. Who knows some of my demons, and looks past them. You don't see the disgusting boy I was turned into all my life. You don't see me at seven years old, scrubbing floors with a dingy toothbrush while my father purposely spilled beer on the floor in front of me just to keep me busy all night. You don't see me at thirteen, in the middle of a shower I'd earned after chopping wood all day with a broken axe handle, and my father barging into the bathroom drunk. He ripped the shower curtain off of the bar and told me all the things wrong with my body, my life, my mother, and how I could never be his son. And you didn't see me last year, picking up my mother off the front porch after she lay in a puddle of her vomit, because my father kicked her in the face too many times, over a spilled fucking bottle of fingernail polish remover."

Bella winced and choked back tears, aching over my pain. I didn't want her to feel sorry for me. I wanted her to understand.

I took a step closer and tentatively lifted her chin with my finger. I did my best to ignore the tear streaming down her face, nearly freezing solid in the frigid air, so that I could get the rest of it out. "I want to be that guy in your drawings so bad, Bella. That's all I think about whenever I'm alone. Being the good guy, a good friend for you. Being worthy. But things are complicated and get more fucking complicated by the hour. I'm doing my best to deal with it so I don't add any pressure to you. You don't need that, and I don't want you to have it. I want you happy. I want you complete. I mean, if I had a choice, my goal would be to carry the entire weight of _your _world on _my _shoulders, so that you don't have to. And it's not because I feel obligated to do that, Bella. Because I don't feel obligated to be your friend. I feel privileged and undeserving, but thankful to have you regardless."

"And truthfully," I inhaled heavily, "it'll break my fucking heart if you leave tonight... or ever. I really, really... _really_, don't want you to leave, Bella. I can't take it." And then I was quiet, and so was she. I felt defeated with every silent minute that passed. I was utterly terrified she was going to bail for good. I couldn't blame her for it, but I couldn't let her go either. I didn't care if I looked vulnerable in front of her at that moment. She wasn't my father. She wouldn't break me down. I took another step toward her, longer this time. "I need you. Please say you won't leave..." I croaked. My mouth had gone dry, felt raw. "Tell me that you'll stay with me."

Trembling, Bella's tiny hand wrapped around my wrist, but she didn't pull my fingers from her chin. I didn't move. Sobbing, she stepped forward, pulling my arms around her shoulders, and then wrapping her arms around my body. "I won't leave you," she whispered, burying her face in my chest. Her tears soaked through my shirt, first warm, than sickly cold. "I promise."

I bent my shoulders, dropped my face into her hair, and brought her closer to me, as close as possible. I couldn't bear an inch of space between our bodies. I held on to her with every bit of strength in me. It scared me to let her go, now that I spilled my soul and opened my scars. I was afraid that the cruel world we lived in might open up and suck her down inside of it. I squeezed tighter, fighting back tears. They spilled anyway.

So quickly, this small girl was becoming everything. I couldn't recognize my life before her. If the world opened up and stole her from me, if she went, I had to go, too. "I'm scared things are changing between us," I confessed softly into her ear. Our bodies vibrated against each other in the arctic air. Neither of us wore jackets, but if I'd had mine, I would've frozen and given it to her anyway. I pulled my arms tighter around her, trying to giver her every bit of warmth I had. "I don't know how to deal with it."

"We won't let them change," she reassured me. "We don't have to."

"Some things we won't have control over, Bella," I warned.

"Then we'll fight, Edward. I'll fight for you, to stay with you. I don't want to lose you. I just... I-I thought that you woke up and realized that you didn't want me around anymore."

"I do want you, Bella, and I'll always want you around," I whispered softly. I squeezed her body reassuringly against mine. "You have no idea how badly I want you here. How I'm struggling with it. It drives me mad when you're away from me for long periods of time. I find myself counting seconds, looking for visions. It's hard and it's scary, because I don't know what's going on with you, or how they're treating you-"

"I'm a big girl, Edward. Please don't worry so much about me when I'm there. I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to handle that type of treatment. I hate that they hurt you. It hurts _me_. I feel it, the blows, every time I see your scars. I feel it myself. I know that pain, Bella, I've lived with it all my life, and you're too fucking beautiful to be so bruised."

"I'll be fine," she stated carefully before looking up at me. The hot air from her breath soared into the arctic night. In the minimal light cast by the moon above and behind us from the street lamp, I noticed her nose was bright red from the cold. "We'll be fine," she continued thickly. "We have to stick together though, you can't shut me out. You can't leave me behind."

I shook my head quickly, pressing my forehead against hers. "Never again," I promised across her skin.

And I meant it.

Never again.

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

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**Press the green button. It's good for you.**


	10. CH 9: Jumping Obstacles

_~ "The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in." ~_  
Morrie Schwartz

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**Ragweeds.  
Chapter Nine : Jumping Obstacles  
**Edward and Bella fight to stay close as obstacles and consequences begin to bear down on them. Fun times are had, but are also short-lived. Their roles in each other's lives begin to shift.

IMPORTANT A/N BOTTOM OF CHAPTER.

**Special Shout-Out's:  
-- To my faithful readers/reviewers/twilighters/facebookers/lexiconers.... **There's been a few repetitive questions concerning _Ragweeds _that I thought I would go ahead and answer quickly: Again, we are no where near the Preface yet. Sorry guys. I know the heartfail isn't easy, but Edward and Bella still have a lot to deal with. Fostering isn't as easy as adoption, and unfortunately, it takes a while to find a good fit in a home. I don't want anyone to get their hopes up for quick placements and easy solutions and golden pots at the end of rainbows. Life doesn't work that way, and I don't want the story to be sugarcoated. I ask that you bear with me during the fail times. There are happier moments coming, and I *promise*, the ending will be worth it.  
**-- To my beta Caryn (Jazz Girl) & to my "visualizing assistant" Aura (Rebecca's Mom)... **Ohhh, what would I do without you both? Thanks for saving my ass and occasionally kicking it when you need to. I love you.**  
Disclaimer: I own nothing that is Twilight or Stephenie Meyer related. (But I busted my ass to write this story. Do not take what is not yours.)**

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_**  
" I need your grace  
To remind me**  
**To find my own."  
~ Snow Patrol, "Chasing Cars"**_

* * *

**Chapter Nine : Jumping Obstacles**

**BellaPOV **

Barely lucid, my trembling fingers struggled to write. I hadn't eaten all day, or yesterday for that matter. I tried this morning, but two guys stole my food before my butt touched the seat. I thought about telling a counselor about it, but knew it'd backfire whenever a friend of a friend caught me alone in the bathroom later. I decided against it. I knew how these things worked.

I wrote letters to Edward even though I knew I would see him in a day or two. He was the only person I wanted to talk to.

With a sigh, I flexed my fingers and tried again.

_Dear Edward_, I wrote.  
_How are you? How's school going? I worry constantly about you when we don't get to speak. I worry about your teachers. About the students you roam the halls with. If they're treating you good, if they're being nice to you. I know I shouldn't think so negatively about everything, but I can't help it. I guess you could say I'm used to disappointment by now. I just hope you're transitioning well. We don't talk much about you and school while I'm there with you... Guess it seems irrelevant compared to everything else going on.  
It really sucks that the escape attempt failed again last night. I wonder what happened? I really hope it wasn't the car again. With all the money Billy seems to be raking in from music lessons and with Jasper and Jake helping him out, I don't see why no one has turned in that car for a better model. At least something that doesn't have a sticky pedal, you know? It worries me whenever you drive it back and forth all the time. I just wish things were simpler for us. It seems like every way we turn, there's another obstacle. Why is that?  
I had another dream about my mom last night. Wasn't much that I remember, and I'm thankful for that. All I mainly saw was her hair. Long dark hair, blowing. She stood facing away from me in a patch of wildflowers, but I smelled that expensive coconut cream shampoo. She loved it. She was addicted to it, said it drove men wild. I reached out to her, called her name. Her hair blew wildly. It mesmerized me. I couldn't move my legs to really touch it with my fingers. I wanted to, desperately, but it was out of reach. She was out of reach. And then I woke up.  
I don't know if I'm thankful to have dreams about her or not. Some nights, it's too scary. Most nights, in fact. But then, I worry that when I stop having dreams about her, I'll regret it. I'll want them back. I'll take the pain to see her in front of me. To hold her hand. To touch her hair. I hate that we can't control what we think, what we see when we dream. If I could, I'd put myself in her arms. I'd listen to her whispering in my ear as she rocked me. And I'd never, ever wake up.  
...But then I'd never see you again. And strangely, that seems just as bad as not having my mother. What does all of this mean?  
Sincerely,  
Bella._

"Hey Bella!" Angela chimed as her knuckles hit the doorframe. She entered before I could give her permission. "What are you doing?"

"Writing Edward another letter."

"Awesome," she sat in front of me and grinned wide. Excitement rolled off of her in giant waves. "Guess what! I'm getting advance placement!"

"What?"

"Yes!" she squealed, "I leave tomorrow! A family with a ranch house and horses. Isn't that awesome?!"

Baffled, I swallowed thickly and gave a rushed nod. "Y-yeah Angela," I said as she pulled me into a tight hug. I rubbed her back, "That's awesome. I'm happy for you-"

"Oooh, what do we have here?"

Angela and I broke our hold. We turned to find Sheena standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. An evil smile spread across her thick lips. Her eyes lit wickedly. "Why Bella," she said. "This explains a lot. I mean, I always thought you had it in for Aaron. But, really... you're a flaming lesbian."

"Excuse me?" I spat, standing up in front of my bed.

"Oh no, don't come toward me and give me a hug," Sheena belly laughed. "I'd hate to have your boobs pressed against me. You may get the wrong impression."

"I'm not _gay_," I sneered.

"Sure you're not. You probably keep a stash of tuna under your bed for late night snacks."

My fists clenched and trembled, and without thinking, I took a step toward her. "You really need to leave me alone before I beat your-"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Rosalie intercepted, rushing between us. She pushed me toward my bunk and Sheena against the doorframe again. Angela sat frozen on the bed, her jaw dropped. "Bella," Rose demanded. "What is going on here?"

"She started it."

"And?"

"And what do you think?" I shouted at her. "She always starts it! And she always gets away with it!"

"We'll handle it," Rosalie said. "The adults, Bella, not you." She stepped closer and lowered her voice while Sheena's caseworker pulled her out of the room. "Bella, you can't be getting into fights. Not when you're so close to placement."

I rolled my eyes and huffed, "Yeah right."

"I'm serious. Kate called me this morning. Come to the cafeteria with me, we'll talk about it."

I looked back at Angela, who was smiling at me. My open letter to Edward lay on my bed spread. No way was I leaving it. "Sure," I said. "Let me just... grab this first."

~*~

Rosalie explained to me about Kate. She said she wanted to push the paperwork, see if I couldn't come to her home in just a few weeks. "Two weeks tops," Rosalie grinned. "Two weeks, and you'll be out of here Bella. Aren't you excited?"

I shrugged.

"What's this?" she asked, attempting to pull the letter from beneath my hands.

My palm slapped it and I pulled it back and folded it in half. "Nothing," I shrugged. "A letter to a friend."

"Oooh, like a love letter?"

"No. A friend letter."

"To a boy."

"Edward is a boy, yes." I couldn't help but smile when I said his name. I bit my lip to stop my cheeks from warming.

"Mmm, so _Edward _is his name," she pondered. "Cute. Oh wait, you've mentioned him before! Yeah, I remember now. The counselors have spoken about him too. Is he your boyfriend?"

"What?" I gasped, shaking my head quickly. "No. Nooo, no, no."

"But you want him to be."

"What?" I shook my head and furrowed my brows. Why did she care? "I don't think that's any of your business. It's certainly not relevant to my case-"

"Oh Bella," Rosalie clapped her hands giddily, "I knew it! You have a crush on a boy!"

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about this with you."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop badgering you about your relationship, although I think it's cute," she said. "Tell me about him though. Your eyes lit up when you said his name, which is a very rare sight for me to see, let me tell you. Come on, what's he like?"

"He's..." I pondered, fighting harder to maintain the smile, "amazing. He's highly intelligent, and extremely strong-willed. He's guarded around people, he stays out of everyone's way. But, for some reason, he opens up easily around me. We have this... I don't know... this unspoken connection. We've had it since day one, and I... He's... I... He's really great."

I couldn't believe all of this was pouring out of me. I never talked to anyone about anything. But when the subject of Edward came up, and Rosalie sat in front of me with eager eyes, I couldn't help myself. I suddenly had word vomit and no filter to catch it.

"What's he look like?"

"Tall," I answered quickly, despite myself. "Really tall. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. And he has this hair color I can't even begin to describe the shade if I tried... It's deeper than copper... maybe more of that bronzed color... I don't know. Not red though, definitely not red. But not brown. Argh, it's difficult."

"Go on," she pressed encouragingly.

The filter opened wider. The words kept coming. It felt good to speak about him to someone. "Green eyes," I said, flustered. "Amazing bright, liquid green eyes. Reminds me of holding one of those old glass bottles up into the sunlight. His eyes really tell a story. He's got chapters hidden behind them, endless chapters, and they're so dark that it makes my heart _wrench _whenever he speaks, and you can't help but listen and stare." I thought of Edward. All the truths he told me in private. "I want to dig it out. Like, shovel my way under his skin and dig around and pull out every dried up weed that's left him aching. He had a really rough past, one I could never even dream about. But he doesn't take it out on anyone really. He keeps it bottled up, and he doesn't explode."

"What else?" she asked eagerly. "Bella, what else?"

"His voice...," I sighed, "it's a perfect pitch. Not too high, not too low. Always smooth, even when he's upset. It's raspy at times, lower when he's really calm or talking about something funny, but it's always charming. And he, in general, is charming." I took a deep breath, amazed at where all of this was coming from. I'd never spoken about Edward. Not even to myself. "He's so respectful, Rosalie. He really takes care of me whenever we get to hang out. He always puts people first. And he's talented, _God _is he talented. I don't think there's anything he couldn't do if he set his mind to it. Every time I think about it, I want to beat his parents for what they did. God, that makes me so damn _angry_."

"You know him quite well," she thought out loud. "It's good that you have someone to talk and write letters to. Seems this boy has really had a powerful impact on you, Bella."

"Yeah..." I mumbled. "Much deeper than I thought."

It was a scary, confusing acclamation.

~*~

The next day, I tried to take a nap. I knew I wouldn't be able to. I prayed to a God I wasn't sure existed for sweet dreams filled with my mother in sunflower patches with blowing hair, or Edward's wide crooked grin and glowing emerald eyes. I had no luck. God didn't want to hear me.

I sat on the swing in the yard wearing a torn jacket, worn boots, the gloves I never removed from my hands, and two covers draped over my shoulders. Kids ran around me, having snowball fights and harassing the new arrivals. "Welcome home bitch!" they shouted with mocking laughter. "Get comfortable down there in the snow. Your face will be in it later!"

I kept to myself, folding my knees up to my chest. I was known as a loner. I heard others murmuring in the halls about how unsocial I was, how I didn't fit in. They still called me a goody-goody, though they stripped me of any dignity I had left. I'd learned not to care… as much. A moment without Sheena was not one I was willing to pass up for anything. Cold winter and frozen lungs be damned.

As the kids laughed and shouting grew louder, my eyes focused on the plain sheet of white before me, and I spaced out. How many children went through something like this? How many children were left here, in an endless ocean, waiting to be plucked like a fish? How many young souls gave up waiting for a secure tank to be placed in, and allowed the sharks to eat them alive? I thought about how tenuous families were, about how valuable a mom and daughter could be to each other and how necessary my friends back home used to be to me. How things I once counted upon had vanished. Everything could be lost. That was clear to me now. Quicker than the blink of an eye, it could all be gone.

Tom called that morning. He tried to project a chipper attitude, encouraging that everything would be all right eventually. But all I heard were rough edges around every sentence. He told me he missed me dearly. I wondered why he didn't call me. He spoke about how often he thought of me, how he hoped I was okay, if I was hanging in there. I wondered where the care package was that he was promised to send. He said it was difficult for him to think of my mother, that it broke his heart. I wanted to scream, _WHAT ABOUT ME!!! How do you think I feel?_

For weeks, even months, I'd waited for him to call me. Waited for him to say, _Bella, I'm taking you far away. I love you and I still consider you my daughter. You're safe with me_. But when he called me, all I wanted to do was hang up on him. Then call him back, wait until he answered, linger in silence to make up for all the silence he'd given me during the weeks I had waited, and then hang up again.

Sitting on the swing, I watched as two dark hawks hovered in a circle over us, squawking. To my right, a counselor looked out the window. To my left, more adults. I couldn't go anywhere here without being watched. Even the birds were watching. I stared up at the crystal blue sky, a rarity in Seattle, and wanted to scream until my chest collapsed.

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

On Monday afternoon, Jake met me in the hall after school. I was surprised to see him. Usually, he hung out with the jocks, caught a ride when he was ready. His time, his way. Billy never cared as long as we made it home at a reasonable hour and completed our chores.

"What are you doing here?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you think? Waiting on you to get out. How'd Bio treat ya?" When he walked across the hallway in the opposite direction, the crowd parted. If I tried it at my old school, I would have been pushed into a locker. "Ready?"

I nodded and adjusted the strap of my book bag, "How was your day?"

"Shitty. Glad it's over. I like being a freshman though. Whoever said high school was hard just didn't get it." He wore a Colts jersey over some new faded jeans. I'd forgotten he wanted to try out for the team this summer and began training for it last week. It made sense between the muscles and height. Jacob was born to play sports.

We made it halfway to the parking lot when a girl from my Biology 2 class, with wavy blonde hair and a name I'd forgotten approached us. "Hey Edward, Jake! What's up? I was wondering if you two would like to come out to my house for a little party tonight?"

"On a Monday?"

"Why not?" she giggled and looked over at me. "That exam was tough, wouldn't you say, Edward? It'd be good for us all to shake it off, have a few beers, talk..."

"Uhhhh," I looked to Jake for an answer, or simply a way out.

He didn't get the memo and nodded nonchalantly. "Sure, we'll be there, Shannon."

~*~

After my chores, I lay flat on my bed and stared up at the wooden planks. "I'm not going."

"Like hell you're not. I need a wingman."

"Take Jasper."

"He's got detention, man. Caught smoking again. I told him to stop going on that side of the building. One day he'll learn." He laughed, "Dad's going to shit a brick over it when he finds out later. He ain't hearing it from me though."

I groaned when he walked in and pulled me off the bed. I was not in the mood for this. "Do you really feel it's necessary to douse yourself that much cologne? What the hell is that?"

"_Lacoste_. Want some?"

"I think you're wearing enough for the both of us."

We went to Shannon's. I didn't have a choice. It was either that, or be stuck at Billy's again, doing nothing and waiting for my chance to see Bella again. At least this way, the hands of the clock would move faster.

The party wasn't as big as I thought it would be, compared to others I'd been to. Still, it was enough to easily get lost in a crowd. I sat at the crowded island in the kitchen with a plastic cup in my hand and watched how easily it was for Jacob to make friends with everyone around him. I wondered what type of chromosomes you had to be born with to behave like him, what type of teenager Billy had been. Was he wild like Jacob? Did he make friends easily? Now that I thought about it, I had no idea why or how Billy ended up in a wheelchair. I guess I never gave myself time to ask.

"What are you drinking, cutie? Beer?" Shannon stood behind me. I looked into the cup, saw the last remains there. I drank them before I answered, "It was beer, yeah."

She reached around, filled a new cup with liquid froth, and handed it back to me. "Here. You look like you could use it."

I didn't know whether to scoff or grin. "Is that a polite way of saying I look like shit?" I asked.

"No. It's a polite way of saying you deserve a break. I saw you in class today. You didn't look focused during that test. What happened?"

"I didn't have time to really study for it."

"Why not?" Shannon asked, dropping into the seat beside me. She strummed her fingernails along the granite. Her eyes locked on mine in an unnerving way.

I glanced down at the counter top and mumbled, "Because I had other things to do."

"Such as..."

"Write a few letters to my mother and…a friend," I answered, not giving her room to ask me anything else about it. It wasn't her business. "How'd you do on it?"

"Oh, I don't know," she groaned, stretching her arms up above her head. I saw the tiniest sliver of skin on the small of her back, but it quickly re-covered when she dropped her arms. "I hope I got an A or else my dad is going to murder me. He hates it when I get anything less. Says my actions are a statement of how he is as a father."

I ignored her choice of words and played it cool. "Won't he be upset with you for throwing this party?"

"He won't find out. He's hardly ever here..." She bounced on the bar stool and turned toward me. Our knees banged together. "You know, you could always come over after school. I could help you out in Bio if you need it."

"Thanks. I'll think about it."

The ceiling fan above my head whirred continuously and, as the music grew mellow and the hours ticked by, the kids settled into their cliques. My intoxication level continued to grow. Normally, I'd drink two or three. I was on seven or eight by that point, and I couldn't stop. It seemed so simple to swallow down and watch the colors of a world you don't feel a part of bleed together.

When I was at Billy's, I at least felt a slight sense of what a real family could be like. Here, with kids my age, I felt weightless. It didn't matter to them that I was here. Jake did his best to stick around and introduce me, but I knew I was disappointing him when I lost interest in conversations. All everyone wanted to talk about was the last party or the next party, or how shitty school was, or who got laid. I didn't give a damn about parties, I knew school sucked, and I never had sex. I had nothing to contribute.

A group of jocks slid a tiny glass of brownish-purple liquid toward me, encouraging me to drink it. So I did. And another, then another, and then more. I lost count. Once I moved through the liquor, I smoked a large joint. Followed by three I shared with Jake, Shannon, and two of their friends. It was great for a while. I felt myself loosening up, and even laughing at their jokes. I thought, maybe I just hadn't given them a chance? Wasn't that what I wanted back then? A chance?

The liquid inside my body sloshed and rocked like a stirring sea as I stumbled my way down the crowded hall. Taking the longest piss in the history of pisses, I leaned the side of my head against the wall and tried to make sense of things. The red flowers on the wallpaper in front of me seemed to bleed down the molding. I shut my eyes and saw my father laying in a pool of blood on the floor of my parent's bedroom. He was staring at me with lifeless, cold eyes. It jolted me back to the present, and I quickly flushed and bundled myself back up.

My mouth had dried out completely. I felt my skin grow clammy. Suddenly, I realized I had consumed much more substance than my teenage body was used to. "Shit, sorry," I mumbled when I nearly knocked a girl over. She blocked the entrance to the kitchen, where Jake was kissing the neck of a new girl. My hand slapped his shoulder. My voice came out unrecognizable even to me. "Jake," I slurred, closing my eyes, "I gotta get outta here buddy. I'm freaking out here."

"Smoke too much?" he asked, concerned.

I gave an awkward nod.

By the time we made it to Billy's house, my legs had nearly given out. Jake led us around the back so we wouldn't be caught sneaking in so late and completely fucked up. He threw my arm over his shoulder and, with the assistance from a cranky Jasper, helped me through the patio door, down the long hall, across my bedroom floor, and into the bathroom Jasper and I shared. They dropped me beside the toilet.

Jasper gave a heavy sigh and lifted my sweaty face up in his hands. "Dude, what'd he take?"

"He just drank and smoked some, how the fuck should I know?" Jake asked as he ran a rag under water.

"Well I definitely smell the fucking pot. Did you drink too many shots Edward?"

I didn't know if I managed an actual nod. The walls behind them jittered again.

"Dude, you can't drink shots after beer man. Remember: beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, you'll be clear."

I dropped my head to the cool seat of the toilet. The walls seemed to inch closer to me, taunt me. I couldn't catch my breath.

My heart jolted. I felt it pounding in my chest. _Thud, thud, thud. _Thoughts of a heart attack crossed my mind as panic settled in my chest. I needed to turn off my brain but I couldn't find the switch.

"You know what?" Jake's whisper roared in my sensitive ears. "Fuck! Josh was handing out Purple Daggers. He probably drank some of those."

"You let him spike Edward's shot with a Purple fucking Dagger!"

"I wasn't paying that close attention to him! Everyone was drinking every-fucking-thing handed to them. How was I supposed to know?"

"That shit has _E _in it, Jake! Maybe even cocaine! You know how Josh is! Remember when he gave me that Lady Killer shit six months ago?"

Worried, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. It bounced around even though I sat still. My eyes were deep and dark, my face lethal. I was screaming at myself, but it came out strangled. "Don't look in the mirror right now," Jacob moved my head from side to side. "Don't! Edward!"

"God, your dad is going to wake up."

"No he's not."

I shook my head to get the image to disappear. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother holding a gun. The shotgun jerked from left to right, too fast, pointing from my father to me, over and over. Was she killing us both? Was I back there again? I saw Bella's face, blood for tears in her eyes, her gloved hand pushing me away. Then flashes, too many flashes, over and over. Father, Mother, Bella. Father, Mother, Bella. The world began to flip and I then I was inside my old high school pool, and somehow, I couldn't reach the surface. I wasn't going to make it. I was going to drown.

"W-What's happening to me?" I gasped and pushed the glass of water that Jacob held in front of my face away. Jasper ran around and tried to cool me off with wet towels.

I was going to die. I knew it. I was going to die before I turned eighteen. My body rocked from side to side. I saw the marble of the floor and then the wood of the ceiling, then the marble again. Nothing made sense. They spoke, but I heard drums instead of words. My heart strummed harder. Pounding turned to heavy booms.

"G-guys?" I saw their mouths moving, felt cold hands on hot skin. Quaking, I fell to the left, and the side of my face hit the ground with a resounding slap. My body vibrated. Through a puddle of saliva and mucus, I heard my voice echo in mumbles, "Get Bella. I need her, call Bell.. Bel... B...." The room faded and trapped me in the forever of a darkening night.

~*~

"Edward, did you really think you'd lose me that fast?" my father shouted, jerking me into his side. He pushed me through the screen door before I made it up the porch steps. "What made you think you could run away from me?"

I was eight. I was an eight-year-old little boy, and I had run from the car because he slapped me in the face for stealing a candy bar at the grocery store we'd just visited. I hadn't eaten in two days. He wouldn't let me, said I didn't vacuum the floors correctly. And, as I lay there staring at the ground while my father's shadow approached, trembling in fear with blood dripping from my nose, I thought, _this was it. I'm dead_.

When my sore eyes opened, and I stared at the 2:01 blinking from the clock on my night stand, I _wished _I were dead.

I didn't want to move. Or think. Or breathe. Every single bone, muscle, tendon, nerve... it all hurt. Wheezing, I rolled over onto my back and prayed that I would go numb and deaf. I couldn't remember much from the night before. I didn't want to.

The mattress dipped on my left side, but I didn't dare open my eyes or risk trying to inhale. It hurt too much. Cold fingertips and woven cloth touched the side of my face and I relaxed a little, knowing immediately who it was. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Ass," I mumbled. I meant to add the word _like _in front of it, but my throat was too dry from all the puking I'd done.

Bella's fingers ran across my hot forehead and into the front of my hair. "Edward," she sighed heavily. "I swear if you were able to sit up, I'd knock you on your ass."

My eyes opened slowly and I blinked at her. She had a permanent frown on her face. I caused that. I hated myself for it. "I didn't expect that response from you," I muttered hoarsely in shock.

"Yeah? And I didn't expect Jasper to show up in the middle of the night at my window, scare the hell out of me, then fill me on the details about you taking drugs, smoking weed, and drinking spiked shots full of cocaine at a party either."

I covered my eyes with the side of my arm. I felt entirely too sick. Words mumbled from my lips.

"Sorry?" she repeated. "This isn't like you, Edward. I can't believe you drank shots. After your father drank for years, and the way he treated you because of it? You're not him, Edward! I don't want you to be him!"

"I'm not him. You know I would never hit anyone, Bella. Jesus Ch-"

"I'm not talking about the abuse, Edward, I'm talking about the drin-"

"I won't!"

"Then don't do that, ever again! You scared the shit out of me! I thought I was going to lose you. All the way to Port Angeles, you had no idea what I went through. Where my mind was at! All I kept thinking about was, if you die, I'm going to die. I'm really going to fucking die, Edward, don't you get it? Are you not listening? I can't even begin to describe the-"

I inhaled heavily, cutting her off, and then winced sharply. My ribs felt like they were being stabbed through with a pocket knife. My ears were oversensitive at the moment, and the last thing I wanted to hear was lecturing, even if I deserved it. It could wait until I got my bearings and didn't want to puke all over myself. "All right," I whispered. "I won't. Please stop yelling. I said I was sorry and trust me Bella, I mean it. I made a mistake and you're right, I was stupid. I never meant to scare, or worry, or hurt you. You know that. You know me."

Bella dropped to her back beside me and folded her arms over her chest. Her voice came out steady and low again. "If you kill yourself, involuntary or not, you're going to kill me too. We go together, remember? That was the deal. And I really don't want to die. Yes, sometimes, when the ceiling starts to crack, I think it may be easier to just give up. But I realized something on the way over here. I don't want to die, Edward, I want to live. I want a real chance to live a life, and I want that for you too. I want us to get out of this. But-"

Her voice cracked under the pressure of her emotions. Curled fingers massaged the skin of her throat. "But," she repeated, "we have to stick together, okay? You can't do stupid shit like this. You just can't. It _killed _me to see you laying on the ground when I got here. You actually looked dead, and all I thought about was hovering over my mom, all over again. You brought me back there. Everyone was so scared. We thought we were going to have to call for an ambulance, tell Billy the whole thing. You'd be removed from here. Jasper too. His adoption wouldn't go through. Jacob would lose his brothers."

"I know," I frowned. "I'm really sorry Bella."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her covered hand, "I hate you right now. I want you to know that I'm so mad, that I think I actually hate you for being so stupid."

I swallowed and closed my eyes. "I'd hate you if you didn't hate me."

* * *

**BellaPOV**

Edward napped on and off throughout the night, but when I gathered my things to head back to the Volturi Center with Jasper, his hand moved off of the mattress and wrapped around my wrist. "Stay," his voice mumbled softly. With a frown, I looked down at the sickly boy who meant so much to me, and realized my world didn't operate well without him in it. "No one will notice if you're missing for one day," he continued.

His eyes cast upon mine in the dim light and, all at once, I knew I couldn't leave. Not like this. He looked so vulnerable. I dropped my bag and crawled on top of the covers beside him. "A little while longer," I said as I wrapped the blankets around his trembling body.

His lashes fluttered and a slight smile crossed his pale lips. "Good enough."

~*~

It took Edward hours of sleep, gallons upon gallons of water, a lot of dry-heaving, and the longest shower in the world before he felt any better. By the following afternoon, I was still at Billy's, and he could finally stand straight. He stayed home from school. It felt good to have the house to ourselves.

Edward ran his fingers through his hair, looking for a sweater in his dresser drawers. "Tell me about The Volt," he said softly. "Catch me up."

I bit my lip and sat on the edge of his bed, folding my hands between my thighs. "Not much to tell," I said with a shrug. "I got jumped again the night Jasper came to get me. Sheena's friends did it without her this time. Something stupid happened earlier, and now rumors are floating around that I'm a lesbian. My roommates didn't like that and decided that beating the shit out of me was the best way to keep me away from them."

Edward walked over to me and lifted my chin to examine the cuts on my lip and scratch on my nose. His body began to tremble. I pulled his hand away. "It's okay," I reassured him. "I'm fine."

Curses flew from his lips as he turned and hit his dresser. I jumped where I sat. "Really," I said quickly. "I'm fine, Edward. It didn't really hurt, especially after Jasper came. I had other things to think about. Guess I should thank you for that."

"This isn't some joke, Bella."

I played with a broken fingernail. "Oh, Rosalie's been stopping by a lot. She's not as bad as I thought, really. Kind of nice. Reminds me of my..." I paused and shrugged, "of my mom. How I used to talk to her. But, um, yeah. She said I may get placed in two weeks."

"She said that two weeks ago."

"Kate's been pushing the paperwork. Apparently, she really wants me to move in."

"If you stay there any longer, Bella, she won't have a girl to move into her house. She'll have a corpse."

"Don't say that. I told you I was fine."

"I don't believe you."

"Have I lied to you yet?"

Edward leaned against his dresser, pulled the white tee from the middle of his chest, and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "What else?"

"Demetri's been coming around again. Guess he figures I've lost all my freak-out momentum. He's been... really nice actually. Offering me snacks. Asking me to hang out with him more and more."

Edward's head shook from left to right. "I don't like it, Bella."

"You don't like what?"

"Any of it. Sheena, those girls. Kate's broken promises." He closed his eyes and dropped his head, "Demetri."

"Well there's really nothing we can do about it, so we've got to make it work-"

"You can stay."

"Edward..."

His eyes lifted and bored into mine. "You can stay here, Bella. For another day or two. Billy won't find out, he thinks your name is Vee anyway. We'll get to hang out, and it'll be less time you'll have to spend _there_ dealing with _them_."

"Are you serious?" I questioned. "That isn't really a good plan, Edward. We could get into tr-"

"If you had a choice between staying there in danger or staying here with me, would you really want to-"

"I'd pick you over every thing and every one," I snapped.

Edward nodded. "So then we're in agreement."

I stood and folded my arms. He was very stubborn. "I'll stay for one more night."

~*~

After the sun went down, a few of Jacob's female friends came over and offered me warmer clothes to wear. They were having a bonfire down by the beach and invited Edward, Jasper, and Jacob to tag along. They were promised there would be no alcohol or other substances involved, but plenty of hot dogs, marshmallows, and fire. Once we made it to the beach, we noticed most kids were wrapped in tiny blankets or laying on the ground in winter-built sleeping bags, staring up at the giant sky.

Edward didn't eat much, still partially hung over, but he enjoyed the fact that I wasn't afraid to eat in front of him. I was too hungry to feel awkward. People stealing lunches did that to a girl. Once I had consumed so much bread that I thought my stomach was going to explode, Edward led me closer toward the icy water, but not so close that I got scared. "Cold?" he asked as I trembled beside him in a borrowed jacket.

I bit my lip and nodded toward the water.

Edward pulled his hands from his hoodie pockets, took mine in his, then shoved them back in his pockets, with his hands rubbing against mine. He smiled down at me. "Body heat," he said. Even though I grew warmer, I felt myself tremble and knew it had nothing to do with the weather.

Jasper loaned us his sleeping bag after he decided to "room" with another girl in hers. I felt extremely nervous to be bundled so close to Edward when he zipped us up, and I couldn't understand why. I never stayed nervous around him before. Why was this so different?

The fire crackled and popped, and the stars twinkled above us. We could see our breath when we spoke. On a beach full of joyous teens, we, once again, we're off in our own little bubble. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Edward asked, snuggling a little closer to me.

I thought for a moment, then shrugged my shoulders. "Alive."

"I'm serious," he chuckled.

"I really don't know," I answered after a while. "It's hard to decide. There's so many choices. What about you?"

He pushed his arm beneath my neck and curled me into him, to where I was on my side and him on his back. "Maybe Pararescue," he answered. "Coast Guard. I'd love to be a rescue swimmer."

"You want to join the military?"

"Yes."

"You never told me that," I mumbled. "It doesn't scare you?"

"No. There's always a risk, of course. But I want to save lives. I figure I love to swim, and I can swim faster than anyone else I know, so why not put it toward something good? Anyone can train and win medals. I'd rather be useful."

"I like that you have so much courage. You know you'd never find me diving into icy cold water. I'd probably kill more people, myself included, than save anyone."

"You have fewer limits than you give yourself credit for."

"Not when it comes to water."

"I can teach you how to swim."

"You'll do more saving than teaching."

Edward laughed softly, his body vibrating mine. "Good thing I know mouth to mouth."

~*~

Knowing it wasn't the best idea, I willingly stayed another night. It was too easy to be comfortable here. Jasper and Jacob were always nice. They made me feel good about myself, like Edward did. Plus, I didn't want to be away from him.

He had to return to school the next day and catch up on what he missed, but he promised that he'd only be there a half-day. Jasper stayed home sick. As soon as Billy left with Laurent to run errands, I made my way into the kitchen and figured out how to make homemade chicken soup for him. I sat on the worn rocking chair he loved while he lay in his bed and ate it with a smile on his face. "Edward should keep you around," he teased. "You're a good cook."

"Not really," I blushed. "My mom said I was good at cutting up breakfast fruit. That was it."

"She should have tried some of this. It's good."

I bit my lip and shrugged the uncomfortable feeling away. "I'm sorry you're sick."

"Meh," he said. "I'll live. I get to spend time with a pretty girl, so you know, it has its benefits."

My cheeks warmed more. I covered them with my palms.

Jasper smiled down at his soup, "We never really get a chance to talk. I hear a lot about you from Edward though, whenever he's in the mood to actually say something."

"All good things?"

"He turns into a moody bitch whenever we joke about you guys in front of him, Bella. What do you think?"

I couldn't help but smile at him. He had contagious warmth. "Do you have a girlfriend, Jasper?"

"Why? Are you interested?"

I looked up at him.

"Sorry, but I don't do my brother's girls. Even if I think you're sexy as fuck -- don't tell him I told you that though."

The answer poured out before I had time to think it through, "I'm no one's girl, and I'm not interested in being anyone's either."

Jasper didn't miss a beat. "Oh, so you consider Edward to be like your brother, then?"

The clock hanging from his wall ticked louder with each stroke. I brought my fingernail up to my lips and chewed on it.

Jasper accepted that I didn't have an answer, but his smile grew, knowingly. "No girlfriend," he said eventually.

I nodded toward the carpet. Suddenly, the one sarcastic bone I thought I'd lost when I moved to The Volt kicked back in. "Boyfriend?"

A bellowed laugh escaped his hoarse throat, and he shook his head quickly, "Sweetheart, I'm just about as gay as those nasty bitches in The Volturi Center think you are."

I smiled over at him. "Fair enough."

Once Jasper finished eating and sat the tray on his nightstand, he pulled the covers to his chin and gave a long glance at me.

"What?" I asked, twitching under his speculative eyes.

"Just so you know," he said carefully, "Edward's not gay either."

"I know that."

Jasper nodded, and his smile turned devilish, "I bet you do."

~*~

Later that afternoon, while Jasper and I sat on the couch in the living room, him flipping indecisively through channels, I stared at the time and waited for Edward to come home. Being that the house was so quiet and I had no one to interrupt, I thought of my mom some more. I wondered why she never had any other kids. All those years, I'd been so selfish to want her all to myself. It never occurred to me how badly I'd kill for a brother or sister now.

"Hey Jasper," I said, looking over at him. I tried really hard not to laugh at bundle of covers around his body and the cotton balls in his ears, "...I think it's really sweet that you called Edward your brother earlier."

The thermometer beeped. He read the results, then tossed it onto the coffee table and cleared his throat. "Gee Bella, I think you're the first girl to consider me sweet without giving her oral first."

There he went again, forcing me to blush. I bit my lip and did my best to hold his gaze. "I'm serious."

"You know how it is, Bella. You're there now. In the system, we define family differently. Edward _is _my brother. I'd kill for that kid, and probably will if I see Josh fucking Daggers hanging around school tomorrow."

"Edward really needs a family," I continued warmly. "He's lucky to have you guys."

"He's a good dude. He had a fucked up life, but, hell, who hasn't? I could rub a Genie's ass and make a wish to switch lives, but we'd both still be just as fucked up either way. At least I have someone to compare notes with."

I smiled. "He has someone too..."

"He's most happy with you Bella. Ask Naomi."

My stomach dropped toward the carpet. I tried to calm my expression. "What do you mean?" I asked warily.

Jasper grinned, "Ask Edward."

* * *

**EdwardPOV**

_This is the third day that Bella's been here_, I thought as I used my key to unlock the front door. I'd grown accustomed to having her around. I found myself drifting off in school, thinking of her warm smile, then having one of my own whenever I saw her waiting in my room for me at the end of the day.

And just like any other, there she was again.

"Hey," I grinned as I dropped my bag and closed my door, "what's up?"

Bella beamed, wiggling from side to side on the edge of my bed. "It's still snowing," she said simply. Her caramel eyes had a new sparkle to them. In a way, I loved how rare it was to see that. It made me appreciate it even more.

I walked over and sat beside her on the black comforter. "Yeah, well, it's really cold outside. Been snowing all week." As soon as I had reached down to untie my shoe, Bella was off the bed, and pulling me up with her, "Jasper said that we get to go sledding! Everyone's going to go. He said there's an extra tube. Come on, we have to go! Can we go, please Edward? Please?"

"Is this what you used Jasper's phone to text me about earlier at school? '_Edward, hurry home'_?"

She bounced up and down, "Yes."

"Christ."

"Oh come on! It's not that cold out!"

"Uh, have you been outside today?"

"...No."

"It's fifteen degrees out there."

"I'll keep you warm," she said, rushing around. With a great pause, we steadied our movements, and our eyes connected. I thought I saw something hidden there, something she was keeping from me, but then she quickly shook her head and ran toward my closet. "Please Edward," she begged. "Please. I really need some fun in my life. You do too."

A heavy sigh and an enormous amount of joy I received from watching her beg like a small child later, I did just as she asked. My stomach flipped and rolled as we stood on top of the gigantic hill Jacob and Jasper lovingly referred to "the death drop of doom". I looked over at an apprehensive Bella, who was bundled up in two layers of everything, including jeans, and adjusted the black beanie cap over my red ears. "Bella," I said through my chattering teeth, "are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Her eyes began to fade a little as she studied the steep drop, but being the tough girl that I knew she was, she straightened up and rounded her shoulders. "We'll go together," she said. "The tube can fit the both of us."

"I'm not worried about it fitting the both of us as much as I am about it flipping and sending us to a frozen death."

"There are worse ways to go."

"Name one."

She pondered for a moment, tapping her gloved finger against her chapped bottom lip. "You could land on an ice pick? I don't see any of those lying around."

I pulled the gloves around my hands and shook my head slowly, hoping she didn't jinx us. It would be our luck.

Jasper and Jacob helped us lay the circular tube down and held onto it while they motioned for us to sit. Bella and I fumbled around, obviously knowing which way we had to go if we were going down together, but neither of us willing to make a move. "Oh come on you two," Jasper whined. "Edward, you sit first, Bella between his legs, up against his nuts. Don't worry, he'll like it. He's sixteen and a guy."

Somehow, Bella's blush managed to show across her already cold-reddened cheeks. She jerked her eyes from mine immediately. I swallowed back my nerves and wanted to hit Jasper for stating the obvious. Bella bounced from foot to foot, waiting for me to go first. I held my breath when I sat, and prayed they didn't let go until Bella was situated. I did not want to go down the hill by myself. As soon as Bella dropped in front of me and leaned back against my chest, something inside me jolted. I was used the electric connection always present between us, but this was much, much more than touching an electric fence. It was more like trying to eat it.

A strong, comforting waft of Bella's shampoo tickled me when her long brown hair brushed my nose. She dropped her head to my right shoulder and pulled my hands around her body, locking them beneath her own on her stomach. She had no idea what kind of fire she had lit inside of me. "Ready?" she asked, trembling under my palms. The wind blew harder, forcing snow flakes to spray our faces. If given another second to think about it, I was sure she'd be able to notice the change in our bodies pressed together. Luckily Jacob and Jasper decided to be dicks and push on my back, and then we were moving, then flying, then soaring down the long, steep hill at terrifyingly high speeds.

We hit a few minor bumps on the way down, and Bella's screams of laughter was so loud that I barely noticed the sharp wind scratching at my face. I held onto her as tightly as possible when we neared the bottom, and then the gigantic frisbee we sat on did a fast spin and we were twirling, and whipping, and laughing. Right when I caught my breath, we dipped down the second hill, the smaller of the two, and Bella's fingernails clutched my skin. By the time we skidded to a stop near a pile of trees, we were so taken that we fell backward, with her still on top of me. My body rocked with energy as the snow blew across our clothes. I watched my breath float up toward the grey sky in puffy clouds, one after another.

"Wow," Bella exhaled giddily as we listened to Jasper and Jacob's friends cheering for us. "What a rush."

"Yes it was."

"I wanna go again."

"You'd have to get off of me first," I teased, rocking her body with my own laughter.

"But I like it here," she whined playfully.

Once again, an awkward moment slipped between us. Our bodies tightened. We fumbled around. Bella quickly rolled away and stood up, dusting the snow from her pants. She tried to extend a hand out to me, but I was already on my way up. Jasper's friend Darren met us with a 4-wheeler and handed me the keys.

"You take it up the hill with Bella, and then John will take the next one down with the next rider, that way we don't have to walk up that gigantic pain in the ass."

Bella climbed on the front before I could object and whipped her head around. She put her chin to her shoulder. "Can I drive?" she asked eagerly, scraping her teeth along her bottom lip.

Her actions made my insides twist. Mesmerized by the dampness on her skin, I handed the keys to her without hesitation. Bella clapped her hands gleefully. I climbed behind her and wrapped my arms around her stomach. "This okay?" I asked, squeezing her slightly.

The engine roared around us.

"It's perfect," she said.

~*~

"Come on, come on, hurry!" Bella laughed, pulling me behind her, the two of us connected by frost-bit fingertips. We stayed out much longer than we should have. Everyone else left hours before, complaining it was way too cold, that they weren't feeling well, but Bella and I refused to give up. We both knew we'd be back in solemn mode soon enough, and neither of us was in any hurry to see it.

After one too many uncomfortable, electric-charged moments when we landed at the bottom of the hill together, we took turns pushing each other down the hill, and even raced side-by-side. After that it was snow angels, followed by a ridiculously cold snowball fight, which ended up with fistfuls of snow shoved down the back of her pants and my face planted in an icy miniature mountain of it by the dead shrub where Jasper took a piss hours before. (I knew she did that part on purpose, just to get back at me.)

By the time we called it quits, our eyes had been watering so much, they'd become sore. Our noses were blisteringly red and our lips were viciously chapped. We coughed and sneezed continuously. There was no doubt in my mind that we'd catch a cold by the time the night was through.

Jasper leaned against the back door with a goofy grin as Bella laughed and pulled me past him, giving him a high-five on the way in. Billy sat on the couch in the living room, watching Jeopardy. I hushed Bella until we slipped into my bedroom and locked the door behind me. Bella's gloved fingers covered her mouth to stifle the giggles. Our bodies trembled from the temperature change.

I moved us into the bathroom and ran the hot water, hoping the steam would help unthaw. "Give me your hands," I whispered through chattered teeth. "We need to get these gloves off of you."

Bella's smile quickly fell. She pulled her arms from my grasp and tucked them against her chest. "No, it's okay," she said, avoiding my gaze. "I can do it. Later."

"Bella don't be silly," I laughed, taking a step toward her. "Your gloves are frozen solid. You have to take them off so you can get warm. I can throw them in the dryer for you."

"Really," she replied dismally. Her laughter was uncomfortable. She turned away from me, and it pained me that she was trying to push away. Again. "I can do it."

I bit my lip and tried to stick my hands in my pockets. The gloves were too frozen, my hands wouldn't fit. I folded my arms across my chest. "Bella," I whispered tentatively. "We're friends."

She sniffled and glanced up at the picture on the adjacent wall. "I know that."

I took a side-step and watched her face for any type of fear. She looked completely shut-off suddenly. "I need you to trust me," I said, taking another step toward her. She tensed, but didn't move. Her eyes cast down toward the tile. "Please Bella," I whispered, moving even closer.

"It's just…" she mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. She would not look up. "I mean. I can't." She paused to wipe the bottom of her nose with the sleeve of my spare jacket. "I'm sorry."

I moved behind her, and felt her trembling before I came in contact with her. "What on earth do you have to apologize for?" I asked, tilting my head so I could see her face.

Her eyes were trained on the corner of the marble trim. "For," she breathed heavily, "existing without her. Maybe... maybe I should have gone too, you know? Maybe that's why she climbed in bed with me that night, she wanted me to go too? Maybe she was trying to hold onto me, to take me with her-"

"Bella," I whispered achingly. Her pain moved over me in heavy waves, nearly knocking me down. I couldn't imagine how painful it was for her, if I was feeling this bad. I wanted to jerk it out of her and throw it away.

Bending my knees, I pressed my chin to her left shoulder. My arms wound over hers. I held onto her hands. "Your mother would never want to take you before it was your time to go. She held onto you that night because she wanted to protect you from the pain she carried inside her heart. I don't know why she made the decision she did, but believe me when I tell you that she'd want you to live your life and not dwell-"

"You're not dwelling over your parents?" she asked bitterly, cutting me off. She scoffed and looked toward the ground. "I know you are, Edward."

"Of course I am. But I think that my mother did what she had to do to save herself, and it really sucks that it came down to that, that we didn't find another way. I'm not sure who to forgive or if I owe any forgiveness to anyone, or if I should ask for forgiveness for not taking her out of the situation before it got that bad... I'm still unsure if I even loved my father or not. Or why I ever would. I don't know. In fact, all I do know is that she is where she is and I am where I am and my father is where he is, and there is nothing I can do to change any of that right now."

I brushed the long hair off the side of her neck and pulled her back into my chest. "I can scream and claw my way across these walls, Bella, fight until I have nothing left. But in the end, I'm just a kid. Just like you are. And we do not have to find any solution for all of these messes that we're in right now. We have time to dwell, and accept, and deal, and we don't have to rush it. Do you understand?"

Bella nodded quietly.

I pressed the side of my face into her cheek, and relaxed when she exhaled and melted into my frame. It thrilled me to know she'd let me hold her, keep her standing. I had gotten through to her again. "For now," I continued, "we can just be kids who had a fun in the snow, and are now dripping all over the tile floor. We can be kids sneaking into my bedroom while my parental guardian sits oblivious down the hall, watching Jeopardy and getting all the answers wrong. Bella, we can simply be you and me, here. Just sixteen year old kids, taking it one day at a time."

Bella's smile slowly returned and she dropped the back of her head against my shoulder. "I can do that," she said softly. "I want to do that."

"I know."

Bella nodded and slowly spun to face me again. As soon as her eyes met mine, I felt all the anxiety I was holding in vanish as quickly as it had come. "We should shower."

Pausing for a brief second, I realized just how easily it would be to put her back into the mood she'd been in all day. "Yeah," I shrugged nonchalantly, "we should."

Before she could respond, I twisted her around again. Holding her against me, I turned on the water with my left hand and laughed as she quickly caught on to what I was about to do and tried to claw her way from my grip.

Silly girl.

"Oh no you don't," I growled, pushing the glass door down the track. I pulled her in, closed the door, and covered her mouth when she screamed against the hot water, soaking first her body, then my own.

Bella tried to spin around and climb out the other side of the double-door. But I quickly blocked her with my hip. On her way around the other direction, still adamantly trying to escape, her icy sneakers slipped across the slick marble floor. She fell into me, knocking me off balance. My back hit the shower door, hard. I was thankful it didn't break. And that Billy couldn't run over to find out what I was doing in here.

He did, however, call out and ask me if I was all right, since he knew Jasper had been home for a while and did his showering in the morning.

"I'm fine," I called out as loud as possible, staring down at Bella, who resembled the prettiest drowned cat I'd ever had the privilege of showering with.

Whimpering, Bella's frozen fingers clawed up the brown ragged hoodie I wore beneath my jean jacket. She tried to find her footing and squeeze past me again. I quickly attempted to block her, and slipped further down the door, pulling her down with me. I realized how much of a bad idea this was now that we were in here and could possibly be injured. I made a quick mental note to ask Billy to purchase a slip-free mat for the floor.

"Edward," she cried, trembling and breathing heavily against my chest, "the water is hot! I'm too cold right now, it's killing me!"

"Oh stop whining, cry-baby," I teased, splashing it up in her face. "That's the point, to get warm. Suck it up."

Bella glared at me, and with a vicious growl, she went from meek adorable kitten to pissed-off tiger. She pounced without warning, pulling me into a headlock. Twisting her body around, Bella tugged me beneath the spray, head-first. I laughed as she shuffled my hair around in the water, as if she could mess it up any worse than it was before.

"How do you like that, hmm?" she growled, scooping up handfuls and trying to shove it in my open mouth. "How does that hot water feel to you, Edward? Are you warm yet?"

Laughing hard, I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. The water splashed around us. A shampoo bottle crashed to the floor. Bella folded herself into my body and tried to kick me. Her arms were still locked around my neck.

"Edward, are you sure you're all right in there? What are you doing?" Billy's voice echoed from down the hall. "Jake, is that him making all that banging noise in the shower?"

"He's fine dad," Jacob laughed. I could hear his footsteps padding across the floor, toward the living room Billy was in. "He's probably whacking it," I heard him say. "Let the boy release in peace."

In an attempt to stifle our laughter, Bella's hands covered my mouth, and I covered hers. I attempted to move us around, in order to find an advantage. Because of Bella's erratic flailing, we hit the adjacent wall, and knocked the soap off the tray. It clattered to the floor and slid toward the drain. Bella's hands released me, and she lunged for the showerhead hanging above us. I pulled her down by my jacket she wore. The nozzle slipped from its holder and banged me in the head. "I'm not sorry!" she laughed -- softly, of course -- as I glared at her. She splashed the stream in my face. "It's what you get!"

We wrestled around, dodging each other and blocking each other from escaping the havoc. I held Bella beneath the stream and wouldn't let her go. Bella pushed me away from her and I slipped down in the tub, all the way to the bottom. My feet hit her ankles and she fell down on top of me, her forehead smacking my jaw. She laughed and buried her face into my chest while I bit my tongue to keep from screaming in pain.

Breathing heavily, I adjusted her knee from where it pushed uncomfortably on my jeans, moving it to the other side of my thigh. Bella's hands found my shoulders. She pushed herself up to an upright position. Dark wet hair splayed all across her face and in her eyes. The shower continued its assault on us. The nozzle, now hanging from overhead, spun around with the force of the water coming through it. Water hit her back and splashed over her shoulders, covering my face and neck.

I pressed my head against the back wall while her laughter rocked on top of me. It was in that moment that I realized she was straddling my lap.

I stilled.

Bella's eyes were beaming with enjoyment. She giggled and reached up behind her to find the showerhead banging against the wall. The jacket I'd loaned her rode up, as did her shirt and tank top beneath it. I stared at her wet, ivory skin, the small patch revealed to me. I watched as her tiny belly button came into view for the quickest of seconds, and then disappeared when she found the nozzle and sat straight again.

My hands remained on her legs. Bella moved the spray from left to right, covering the clothes on my chest. "La da-da, da-da," she cooed, completely oblivious to the high-voltage electric current I felt coursing through our bodies. And the fact that she was straddling me.

At least, it _seemed _she was oblivious.

Keeping my left hand planted over her thigh, my right extended and covered the nozzle. I directed the spray toward the ground. She looked up at me, still smiling, but her eyes questioned why I stopped the fun. Water dripped from our bodies, off of my chin, from her hair to her clothes. "Bella," I whispered in a haze, trying to make sense of this. The fact that I, just now, realized just how wet she actually was. The fact that I wasn't thinking about anything other than that she was sitting on me. Straddling me. So close. The fact that I didn't want her to get up.

And the fact that I, for the first time, really, _really _wanted to fucking kiss her.

She moved closer, or it seemed like she did. Maybe I was seeing things -- or wanting to see them. I couldn't tell. My thoughts were all over the place. "What?" she breathed across my face, tilting her head.

I stared up at her, watching tiny droplets stream from her cheek to her parted lips. They seemed to float on her top lip and then drop to her bottom one, sliding down to her chin, devastatingly slowly.

I licked my lips and averted my gaze.

She looked down at me, completely clueless of thoughts in my head and the emotions stirring in my body. I put on my best smile and, pulling the nozzle from her grasp, I splashed her in the face with it.

"Nothing," I said.

~*~

Even when it snowed, it still rained. It's why I hated the state of Washington. The roads turned to a sloshy grey, then grew slick with ice. Every day had been dreary. It seemed as if the universe was telling me to keep Bella with me. She didn't need to go back. It would not be safe to take her in these conditions. With our conditions.

By the time her fifth day arrived, however, things had grown tense. I'd noticed Billy's distant behavior that morning before school. Usually he would be cheery-eyed and warm, asking us about school or after-school plans. Today, he was distant, in the corner of the booth, drinking coffee. His eyes were stuck to the folded newspaper in front of him.

I couldn't shake my nerves. I felt ansy all through school. I failed the pop quiz I had in biology. I called Bella during my lunch break using the cell phone Jasper had loaned so we could keep in touch. She said Billy hadn't been home since we left for school.

The roads on the way home were horrible. It took forever getting back. By the time I arrived at Billy's at four o'clock, my stomach was in my chest and my fingernails were chewed to the quick. Billy's truck sat parked outside. He usually kept it in the garage, especially during this type of weather. He said it didn't need any more water damage.

"Hey," I greeted as cheerfully as possible, closing the front door behind me. I swallowed thickly and dropped my bag by the door. "I'm home."

"Edward, come join me in the kitchen please."

My heart rate climbed as I entered the room. Billy sat in the same spot in the nook he was in this morning, drinking another cup of coffee and eyeing a newspaper. It seemed like he'd never moved. If Bella hadn't told me otherwise, I would've been thoroughly convinced that he hadn't.

I took a seat across from him and tried to calm my panic. "What's up?"

"How was school?" he asked. A smile played on his lips. It said he had a secret he wasn't willing to share.

I did my best to not fidget. "It was fine."

"Anything exciting happen?"

"Not really," I shook my head. "Same as usual."

"Mmm." His eyes cast down toward the newspaper. He took a small sip of his coffee, and then a longer one. I knew there was a reason he asked me to join him, that this was going somewhere I didn't want it to go. I couldn't figure out why he was drawing this out. Was he testing my conscience?

"So," I exhaled nervously, "what are you reading over there?"

Billy's posture straightened and his smile grew. "I'm glad you asked," he said. "It's quite an interesting story. I wanted to show you as soon as you got home because I know you still have some ties to this place."

"What are you talking about?"

Calmly, Billy grabbed the folded newspaper and turned it around, setting it on top of the placemat in front of me. There, on the front page, was a headline in big, bold letters: _Another Missing Child Reported At The Volturi Center: Possible Runaway?_

Every hair in my body stood up. I noticed a draft make its way into the room but did my best to hold my composure.

Licking my lips, I furrowed my brow and shook the negative thoughts that poured into my open head. It took everything I had not to bail from that table, run to my room, pack some clothes, and get Bella and I the hell out of here.

Suddenly, the home I felt so safe in didn't seem so safe anymore.

"Strange," was the only thing that came from my lips.

"Mmhm," Billy exhaled. "Strange indeed."

"Yeah."

"Do you know this girl, Edward?"

I stared down at the black and white photo of a lost girl with big sad eyes and a bitter, solemn expression. It was a girl on the first day she arrived in that hell hole. It was the before-Bella. She seemed so different now. I didn't want to think of her going back to that.

"No," I shook my head. "I don't. Sorry."

"She looks… familiar. I could have sworn I've seen her around somewhere... that you guys brought a girl like this here..."

I forced a laugh and crossed my arms over my chest. Did my best to look relaxed. "Billy, I'm sure that you know by now that Jasper and Jacob seem to have a wide variety of female companions. They come in and out of here every day."

Billy grinned. "Yes they do." He paused and tapped a finger to his chin. "Funny thing about that though, Edward. I never notice _you _with any girls. Well, before, there was Naomi. But she hasn't come around this past week or two..."

"She's been busy. It seemed irrelevant..."

"Decided you weren't interested in her?"

I swallowed.

"Well you're young," Billy shrugged. "That'll happen. Teenage boys always break the young girl's hearts. They've written enough country songs about that."

I forced a smile.

"Well, I just wanted to know if you knew her. I care a lot about you, Edward, and want the best for your well-being. I want you happy. I'd hate to know that you have a young friend like this, lost somewhere, with no place to go. I hope no one kidnapped her, or is sheltering her somewhere. That's an offense. People could get in big trouble for something like that."

My chest tightened at the reality of the situation. The only thoughts in my head were, _she's not going back, you're not sending her back, please don't take her away._

"I asked Jasper about it before school," Billy continued. "He looked confused at first, almost ghostly, but... then he said he didn't know her either. Before Jasper came here, he'd bounced from one place to the next. I didn't know if maybe she'd been transferred from another center to this one, where you were placed. You know how the system bobs kids around like a cork."

"Yes," I said hoarsely. "I know all too well." _And that's why she's not going back._

Billy nodded and waved his hand, dismissing me and the conversation, "Laurent will be here to cook supper. Grilled chicken and steamed broccoli tonight."

I stood up and put on my best presentation face, but I couldn't hide the cold warning glare in my eyes. I wasn't losing my friend.

Two minutes later, Jacob knocked on my bedroom door and pulled me from Bella's welcome-home hug. She was trying to tell me about how she had to hide in the closet, saying that Billy had been in my room earlier, searching through drawers. She said he wasn't in there long. It still sickened me to know my privacy had been violated. I thought things were going to be different here.

"Dude," Jacob whispered. He closed his bedroom door behind him. Jasper stood on the other side of the door. Both their expressions were angry. This felt like an intervention. "Bella needs to go back."

"No."

"No, seriously Edward," Jasper shook his head, "we all like Bella, we know you two got something going on, but shit could get dirty real fast. I've seen this type of thing happen-"

"She's not going back," I sneered, doing my best to keep my voice down so neither Bella nor Billy heard. "That's final."

Jacob shook his head at me, "What are you going to do, Edward? Keep her forever, kidnapped, until you both turn eighteen?"

"She's not kidnapped. She came willingly."

"You don't get it, do you?" Jasper said. "We're accomplices to this! This could ruin my chances for getting adopted, could ruin your chances! Billy will be devastated if he loses us, Edward. What do you think that would do to him, losing his entire family-"

"It would kill me too," Jacob interjected. "I don't want to lose you guys."

"You really need to think about this. We're not trying to upset you, but sometimes, you have to put yourself and your family before the girl, and I really don't think you're seeing the bigger picture."

I shook my head, trying my block out what they're saying. "You can't do this to me," I begged. "Don't do this to me. I can't choose-"

"Haven't we always been there for you?" Jasper pushed, stepping in front of me. "Haven't we helped you out? We care about Bella, and we know you do, and we'll figure out another way. Edward. There will be another way for you to see her, after this whole mess dies down. We'll help you, we promise! But she has to go back!"

"NO!" I barked angrily. My fists shook at my sides. I took a steady breath and calmed down. I was not going to explode like my father. I was not him.

I shut my eyes and shook my head slowly. "She can't go back there. They will put her in lock-down, worse than before. They'll probably even detain her, I've seen shit like that happen. She gets into fights every day, and I know it will be worse for her now if she goes back. They'll kill her."

"But-"

"And she's happy here," I exhaled, waving my hand around. My eyes bounced back and forth between my friends, my brothers. I couldn't hide the sadness in my voice. "She's _really _happy here. This expression has come out, this... amazingly warm smile, that I only get to see on the rarest of days when she's in the present and not the past, and knowing that I have something to do with that.... I can't steal that away from her. I can't be that guy, that person. I promised her I would keep her safe and I-"

"Edward, you can't protect her forever," Jacob whispered.

"I know that," I frowned. "But I can protect her now."

Jasper looked to the floor, exhaling heavily. He knew I wasn't going to cave on this. I realized, just then, how well the both of them knew me. They truly were great friends and I didn't want to lose them. But I couldn't bare the idea of losing Bella either.

"Bella doesn't know about any of this, and we won't say anything," he reassured me, patting me on my arm.

"Good," I said simply. "She doesn't need to know."

* * *

**BellaPOV**

I lay on top of Edward's bed, listening to his iPod. I was trying to write him another secret letter. I loved hiding notes around his room, for him to find later when he wasn't expecting it, loved seeing his smile when he discovered one in a folded pair of socks, or in the sole of his sneaker.

Occasionally, I watched the antique clock pass the time. I couldn't believe that I had been here for two weeks and that everything was going so well. When I looked up at the ceiling, I realized I was actually looking up. I rarely thought about the Volturi Center these days. I felt hopeful, confident in Edward. Every day, I was more eager for his return than the day before.

Thunder rolled outside the large windows. The clouds were too heavy to see any lightning, but I knew it was there. The sounds of the crackling, the fuzzy popping. I did my best to think about something else until Edward arrived. I wished I could get over this fear of storms, that I wouldn't feel all the negativity in it. But if I thought about it, then I thought about my mom, and that made me ache in a way that I didn't want to. So I shut it out and locked it away.

Edward barged into the room an hour later, drenched from head to toe. A grim expression sat firmly on his face. He shook his jacket off, locked the door, and dropped his bags by his dresser. "Sorry I'm late," he exhaled. He walked over to the bed, ran his long fingers through his hair, and shook the droplets from it. "It's disgusting outside."

"I see that," I replied. I climbed off the bed, went into the bathroom, and grabbed a towel for him. Edward smiled as I handed it to him. "Tell me how your day was." I said.

"You cleaned my room." Edward paused and looked around, at the clean hardwood floors. There were no more dirty clothes piles, no more shoes shoved beneath the bed. His books, given by Billy, were again organized, as were the few CD's he'd acquired -- all classical, of course. Billy's influence.

"I thought you'd feel better if you came home without having to swim your way to the bed," I replied with a teasing smile.

Edward gave a slight forced smile and closed his eyes. He hand-dried his hair in silence, before tossing the towel in the corner of the room. "Thanks for doing that, Bella. You know you didn't have to."

"No problem." I sat beside him, and curled my legs beneath me. "So?"

"So what?"

"So how was your day?"

Edward frowned and pushed the sleeves up his arm. "I received a strong lecture from Mrs. Hallson today. My grades are dropping drastically. I can't concentrate when I'm there. I lose focus."

"Why?"

"Because," he mumbled, pursing his lips, "I think too much about everything when I'm there. You. My mother. Everything going on. I worry about you. Wonder what you're doing, all alone and holed up here in my bedroom all day."

"Edward, I'm fine where I'm at, trust me. This is much better than anywhere else I could be. I'd rather live in any dirthole, around you, then in the largest mansion with no one."

"You deserve more than this, Bella," he frowned. "I just... I wish we were older. I wish I could get a job, that we could have our own place. You'd be free to move around, go where you want, not have to worry about anyone catching you-"

"Hey," I said, scooting closer to him. I grabbed his chin and made him look at me. "Stop. I'm not some fragile girl, made of broken glass and ready to shatter. I'm stronger now. I'm stronger because of you, because of the things you teach me, even when you don't realize. Edward, you have to stop worrying about me so much. I'm not the same girl I was months ago when we first met."

"No one changes that quickly Bella. Not even me."

I reached my hand up and rubbed his back. His shirt was soaked through from the rain. He should have worn a heavier jacket today.

Time passed as we sat quietly. His expression didn't change. Thunder roared, shaking the windows in the house. The lights flickered on and off, quickly.

I trembled.

"Bella, do you believe in God?" he asked softly.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "My mom never spoke about God much."

Edward turned toward me, placing his hand on my knee. "I've been thinking about God a lot lately... when I'm at school. Sometimes my mind drifts off, and I get lost in these feelings, and the idea of a God always comes to focus..."

"In a good way?" I whispered.

Edward shook his head. "I think of my father. Of all the things he'd done. I wonder, if there was a God, what I did to deserve the beatings I got from him. What my mother did. People say bad things happen to good people for no reason, but I think that's bullshit. Bad things happen to good people because we're meant to learn, to wake up. I wonder if I was meant to learn that I was going to be stronger than that one day, that I was going to survive..." He pulled his hand from me and rubbed the back of his neck. "Or," he continued, "if it was a sign that the abuse I took was the best I could get. That I would ever get."

"What are you saying?" I asked. "Where is this going?"

"I'm saying that this house... Billy... Jasper... Jacob... you... This whole other life is an illusion. We don't ever really have anything, which is why we have everything to lose, and do lose it. Nothing stays for long, Bella. Nothing sticks. This entire fucking world is a joke, and if God does really exist, then I am the living proof that there is meant to be scum in the world, and not everyone is going to rise above it-"

"Stop it!" I hissed as I shook him. I needed him to wake up, to see the truth. I was angry at his teacher for bringing him down. He was doing so well. Why did it have to always go back to this?

I swiped angrily at the tears in my eyes and glared at my best friend, sitting there broken and frustrated. "Edward, stop it. Don't say things like that. You're having a bad day. Everyone has them, but stop thinking that you are no better than that asshole father of yours. You _are_ better. You are going to get past it. But you have to let yourself. You have to step over the walls you've built around yourself in order to get somewhere better. You have to let it go."

"Bella, you're not even letting go!" he barked. Edward pushed off the bed and trudged to his dresser. He leaned against it and glared at me, all the hate he held for his family built up in his eyes. I wanted to dig up his father's grave and beat the skeleton until it was nothing but dust. "How can you tell me to let go when you're not either?"

"I'm trying!" I retorted. I did my best to ground myself, to not yell at him. It was hard to remember that he wasn't angry with me, when all his anger was directed this way.

"No you're not," he replied bitterly. I was starting to lose him, _my _Edward. He was turning back to the angry boy, beaten down all of his life. It scared me. "You are not trying. _I'm _not trying. We're fucked so far beyond any recognition, we've lost everything, and I don't want to keep thinking things are going to change when-"

His voice cut off when I charged from the bed. I don't know where my reaction came from, but it was too late to turn back. Tears filled my eyes. I stood before him and ripped off the tattered gloves I'd worn since the day after my mom passed. I threw them to the ground and held out my hands, naked and looking every inch of my mother's.

My eyes met his and my jaw locked in place. I had so much anger and hurt in me, for him and for our pain, that I trembled. It felt like I would explode if I didn't let it out.

Edward stared at me, lips parted, an unrecognizable expression glued on his face. I could tell he was shocked. His mind was trying to backtrack, to apologize for screaming at me. There was no way in hell I was going to let him.

"Look," I said through my teeth, "look at me, Edward. Don't fucking tell me that it isn't possible. Don't fucking tell me that we can't try. If I can do it, if I can stand here and show you the one part of me that I've honestly thought about scraping off until all the skin is gone and there is nothing left of my mom-- the person I thought was my angel, who turned out to be someone who gave up on me -- then you can be better than your asshole father who had no purpose on this planet and your psychotic mother who should have taken you away from that house years ago! It was not your fault, Edward! It wasn't your fault that you were treated that way, that you had to endure it. You were not the piece of shit. They were! They have been pounding you down, trying to convince you that you were worthless. But, _they_ were, not you. They were the idiots. And they've lost you, and I'm glad, because no one should have you if they can't appreciate you like you're meant to be. No one should take advantage of you like they did."

Edward stared at my uncovered hands. He took a deep breath and held it for a while. "What if all I'm ever going to be is a disappointment, Bella? What if I'll never add up to anything more than some middle-aged asshole who lives in a disgusting apartment with nothing to show for himself, working at a pitiful job he despises? What if all of the nothing they said I was going to be ends up being all that I really am, and then you realize that and realize you've wasted your time?" He inhaled and swallowed thickly. "What then?"

I took a step toward him. "You will never be nothing to me, Edward. And I wouldn't care if you live in a disgusting apartment, with a worthless job, and have nothing to show for yourself but a box of rocks, as long as you were happy. _Truly _happy. I would be there to remind you that you _have _risen above your family. Because you found something that they never found. You found a way out. You escaped that prison and you will never have to go back to it."

He shook his head slowly. "I'm not there yet, Bella. I'm not out yet. We have a lot of things going against us, against me. Things you don't know. I'm not out yet."

I nodded and lifted my arms higher, closer to his face. He needed to see that I was trying. For once, I could be his example. I could be the stronger one.

Edward's eyes studied my skin, hidden for so long beneath crocheted cloth, filled with memories and pain of a life I'd loved and lost.

"But you're a step closer," I reminded him.

He nodded slowly. Edward leaned down toward me, to the part of me I'd left open and vulnerable. He placed his warm lips to the inside of my right wrist, an action so truthful, but so rare between us. My entire body broke into goose bumps as his lips lingered there.

Edward drug his lips to my other wrist and kissed it also. His lips were warm and soft and inviting. His hot breath searched my skin. I watched as a tear fell from his closed lashes and did my best to stand tall for the both of us. If this was what it took to make him realize his potential, then I would do it gladly and without a second thought. I would strip and bear myself for him, over and over. No wound was worth hiding if it made him understand he wasn't alone in this.

Edward sniffled and gently wrapped his hands around my arms. Keeping my exposed wrists together, he pressed both to his mouth.

I used my fists to wipe the tears from his face where I could reach.

I didn't know how long we stood there in silence. My legs were starting to tingle. They grew numb.

Once his tears were dry, Edward shook his head and exhaled in relief. I knew my point had been made, that he really understood. "Don't ever hide yourself again, Bella," he whispered. "Please. Not from me."

I nodded and let him kiss my skin as much as he wanted. "I will never hide myself from you. I promise."

* * *

_**----AUTHOR'S NOTES---- **_

I wanted to thank everyone again for their patience with me. I'm not going to give any excuses for why I am not updating regularly, with anything, but I will say that after Saturday, I will not be online or writing until the 29th of March, and maybe even later, as I am going on a MUCH NEEDED vacation with my family who's coming to visit. I need to clear my head and reset some goals in my life. But it would be wonderful to come home to some positive feedback. I don't usually do this, ask for it like this, but I will tell you that feedback is encouraging, and right now, I **really **need that, to hear from all of you, who keeps me going. Thank you for hanging in there.** I love you guys.**


	11. hiatus

~ "_The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it_." ~ Arnold H. Glasgow  
**Ragweeds.**

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**~ Officially on Hiatus ~**

No, I'm not quitting this story, nor am I quitting writing. Guys, I love this story and these characters. And I'm still excited about it. I think about it constantly. I've just got way too much going on in my personal life to be able to focus on writing without worrying about everything else I need to get done and being distracted, which has been a constant. And it's not that _Ragweeds _or any other story is not a priority, trust me. It's a huge priority. But I realize that I need to focus on myself and my husband and our life at the moment. I ask for your patience and understanding. As much as I appreciate the pm's and welcome them, I cannot give anyone a particular answer on when I will be updating this story (or any story, for that matter) or posting a new story online -- which is why I haven't responded when asked about an update status. We'll just have to wait until things settle down.

Keep following me on FFn/LJ/Twitter/My blog (posted on profile), or pm'ing me to stay in touch. I hope to be back with a bolt of lightning, carrying so much inspiration that I'll need magic fingers to keep up.

Thank you.  
~A.

PS ~  
You don't have to respond to this message by reviewing if you don't want to. You're welcome to pm me if you have any questions/concerns/etc.


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